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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
Shelf. .:27..B. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



STRAY SONGS OF LIFE. 



Stray Songs of Life 



BY 



DIVIE BETHUNE DUFFIELD 





NEW YORK 
ANSON D". F. RANDOLPH & CO. 

38 West Twenty-Third Street 
1889 



f 






Copyright, 18S9, 
By Divie Bethune Duffield. 



SSnibersitp ^ress : 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



OOMjS of my secret, silent hours, 
No longer are ye mine ! 

Like thistle-down I see you fly ; 

But whether to the earth or sky, 
My heart does not incline 

To say : it only waves Good-by ! 



CONTENTS. 



HOME LYRICS. 

Page 

Introduction for an Album 9 

The Farewell 10 

Bright Eyes ' I 

The Silent Call II 

An Anacreontic 12 

Salve Regina l 3 

Love's Lament • • • 13 

Why? 14 

Were I, by Earth's great Author's Word 16 

Memnon 16 

A Resurrection 17 

Life 17 

Farewell, Farewell, Sweet Woman that I Love .... 18 

Gentle are the Winds that Blow 18 

The Rainbow 19 

Eyes of Beauty flashing Bright 20 

A Fable 21 

Our Star . 21 

Lady, Fair Lady, tell me True 22 

A Dream by a Fountain 22 

The Crescent Moon 24 

A Nursery Song 25 

Love-Song 26 

A Cradle Reverie 27 

The Arrow and the Song 28 

Love's Dirge 28 



viii ( ontents. 

My Eye was on the Sky. Mary 59 

En Passant 30 

Song of the Absent Lover 31 

Love's Vastness 32 

Love's Roundelay 33 

Love (Translation) 35 

To Stella 36 

The Star of Beauty 36 

To Bright Eyes 36 

lo my Boy 37 

Vox Cordis 38 

The Last Request 38 

Another Sepulchre and another Mary 39 

A Wish 40 

Flora's First-Born 40 

The Morning-Glory 41 

To my Son on his Tenth Birthday 42 

The Fountain Opened 42 

The Ring 43 

Our Pledge and Prayer 44 

A Homeward Call 4S 

Farewell Love-Song 46 

To our Bessie's Pet Dog 47 

Earth's Mother-Love \8 

The Sabbath Snow-Storm |<> 

When I 'm gane awa' 5° 

The Summer Storm 5 l 

The Triple Home among the Hills 52 

Impromptu Lines at Niagara 53 

Alter the Ocean Storm 54 

Relapse . 54 

Prologue to Shakspeare 55 

Cupid and Venus 57 

A Voice in the Tempest 

The Frosted Pane - s 

The Hidden Flower 

( or Cordium 6° 

The Lady's Paradox 61 

Whither Aw.iv? 



( on tents. i\ 

Acknowledgment 

The Marah ol the Hearl 64 

l i 'i .in Album (, | 

( Mn Flag in [864 • 65 

The < »i iole 66 

The Floating Eagle 67 

The l'l.iini ol the Sea 68 

Stabat Mater 69 

Philopena <„, 

The I wo Venuses : .1 Vision y Q 

The Little Bluejacket 71 

'I he < bvenanters and the Larks . 7.: 

Sabbath Sunset-Musings yr 

A Time oi Clouds 77 

The Angelus 78 

Thoughts while Regarding the < omel ol [874 . 78 

The Lunar Eclipse 79 

The Flag <So 

An Autumn Meditation 8i 

Beauty 81 

'I he Boiling Spring 

Truth's Altar 

The Dead and the New Year 

A Sabbath Orison . 84 

Bil thday Lines 85 

'■'(• 

I dire mil write my Thinking 87 

ter Morning 88 

" For the Fashion of this World passeth awa . 88 

Sunrise on Block Island ,'•'<) 

By the Sea 

The Sparrow's Fall 90 

Birthday Lines to a Three-Year-old Boy 90 

The Rose and the Master 01 

The 1 >oves 92 

Prologue al a Burns Festival 93 

L'ght 07 

Lines on the Phenomenon of the Moon and Venus . . . 98 

The Song ol Poverty 99 



x Contents. 

Page 

" Tears are flowing " ioo 

Streams from a Troubled Fountain 101 

Again I pass behind the Cloud 102 

Birthday Stanzas 103 

Lines on the Portuguese Exiles 104 

The Harp 106 

The First Thunders of Spring 107 

Epigram I0 8 

Cupid Shipwrecked 109 

Jenny JI1 

As Panting Travellers o'er Sahara's Sands 112 

Impromptu Lines , 112 

The Hour of Fate 113 

The Pauper Child 114 

The Lilies 116 

Despondency 116 

Woman's Tears 117 

An Approaching Birthday 118 

Lux in Tenebris 119 

The Gray Goose-Quill 120 

My Dog Jim 122 

An Epitaph 123 

An Invocation to Peace 124 

A Yearning after Nature and her Teachings 125 

Farewell, Mary, for a Season . 126 

The Meadow- Larks 127 

A Sacramental Breathing 129 

Luna 1 130 

Life 131 

A Dream or Not a Dream 132 

Lines on Returning from Europe 134 

Up and Away ! 135 

A Song of Auld Lang Syne 136 

A Song . 137 

The Death-Bell 138 

A Song for the Day of Trouble 141 

Wife and Wine 143 

The Sparrow's Nest 144 

The Mother's Sacrifice 146 



Contents. xi 

Page 

Lines on the Atlantic Telegraph 148 

Hopes and Fears ; or, The Maiden's Thoughts by the 

Sounding Sea 150 

Dear Lady, you've ofttime marked at Night 151 

Piedmont and Freedom 152 

A Morning Chant to my Boy 153 

"Truce and a Peace" 154 

Repose 156 

On Hearing a Lady Sigh 157 

A Song of Hope 158 

The Pantheon at Rome 159 

Burial Flowers 160 

Michigan Flag Sons; 161 

Switzerland ; or, The Home of Liberty 162 

Closing Prayer of 1862 163 

Sabbath Eve at Grosse Pointe 164 

Keats : a Fragment 164 

Vale ! 165 

The Child of Genius 166 

The Butterfly and the Bible 167 

The Two Songs 168 

The Lily-Bed 169 

The Maid of Chamouni 17° 

Sabbath Sunset 171 

The Evening Star 17 1 

" Mich fliehen alle Freuden," etc 172 

Ludwig Uhland's Funeral at Tubingen 173 

A Thought of Goethe 1 74 

The Sea-Gull's Larceny 175 

To Annie Louise Cary 175 

Moonlight on the Waters 176 

The Robins 1 77 

The Sexton's Steeple-Song 1 79 

The Exhumed Warrior 180 

The Floods of Morning cheer the Sky 181 

Summer is Dead 182 

Moonlight Musings 1S2 

At Lizzie's Funeral 184 

A Dream 185 



xii Contents. 

Page 

The Ideal and Real [86 

J'ai Fairn ! 187 

Ex Oriente, Lux 187 

Penitential , 188 

Happy Bondage 189 

Say not to Me 1 must not Love iox> 

Fire and Flood 191 

The Crown 191 

Red-ribbon Temperance Song 192 

Ireland 193 

Birthday Greeting 194 



SONNETS. 

To Mary in Giief 197 

Sidney [98 

Similis et Dissimilis 198 

To* . . . . : 199 

To a Singer in a Church Choir 199 

To 200 

In Memoriam 200 

The Queen 201 

In this Bright World, oft rises to Man's Eye . . . . 201 

The Flower of Love 202 

The Village of Butler, Pennsylvania 202 

America to Gladstone 203 

To G. V. N. L 203 

To a Portrait 204 

Woman 204 

Sweet Soul, fear not ! 205 

" Pulchra filia, pulcherrima matre ! " 205 

The Sea-Shell 206 

The Wedding-Day 206 

Pace 207 

Music 207 

To Jennie 208 

The Microscope 208 



Contents. xiii 

Page 

His Majesty the Emperor of all the Russias 209 

To R. C 209 

To R. R. B 210 



MEMORIAL TRIBUTES. 

The Battle of Lake Erie 213 

First Decoration Day 223 

Epitaph • 225 

Lines on General Taylor's Death 226 

Our Dead 227 

Song of the Brady Guards 228 

Daniel Webster 230 

A Laurel for the Bier of Stanton 231 

The Gates of Day , . 232 

Memorial Tribute 234 

Mother 236 

Willie's Death and Burial .... 237 

Our Genevieve 239 

Dirge for President Garfield . . 240 

Christmas, 1888 242 

Florence's Farewell 243 

Lines on the Death of Henry Clay 244 

Lines on the Death of Brevet Maj.-Gen. Hugh Brady . 245 



DE FINIBUS. 

LX 249 

The Children's Lyric at the Golden Wedding .... 250 

The " House not made with Hands " 252 

The Aged Christian's Prayer 254 

Easter, 1889 2 55 

Vale ! 256 



$ome tytit$. 



HOME LYRICS. 



INTRODUCTION FOR AN ALBUM. 

By the dusty path of Life 

Friendship strews some smiling flowers, 
And amid its toil and strife 

Oft they cheer our saddest hours. 

Such, in all their pride and bloom, 
I would fain preserve with care, — 

Sprays, perchance, to grace the tomb 
Of the friends who placed them here. 

Then, as each revolving year 

Plucks them hence with hand unkind, 
I can point, though with a tear, 

To the flower each left behind. 

And when heath my summons sends, 
To his shaft I '11 meekly bow, 

Glad again to greet my friends, 
With their garland on my brow. 



IO Home Lyrics. 



THE FAREWELL. 

With clasped hands we stood, 
And quiet " farewell " said; 

Ami then to me it seemed 
My heart within lay dead. 

Life's rosy beam oi day 
Was fading from my sight, 

And soon I should be wrapt 
In dark descending night. 

The bird amid the leaves 
Could sing itself to rest ; 

But I, — how could I sleep. 
The thorn within my breast? 

The sun of life had set, 

With curtains closely drawn ; 

The darkness ne'er to break. 
The day no more to dawn. 

I stumble like one blind. 
Or bird with broken wing; 

But then from out the dark, 
Like Milton I may sing, — 

Sing •• Paradise " now " lost," 

Where once all beauty reigned. 
But still in faith, 1 hope, 

Sing •' Paradise regained." 



Bright Eyes. — The Silent Call. 1 1 

For she may yet return, 

As conies the Queen of May, 
To crown the wintry night 

With splendors of the day : 
For this my weary heart 

Will constant bow and pray. 



BRIGHT EYES. 

Bright Beauty of my heart's delight, 
Whene'er your form breaks on my sight, 
A thrill goes through me like the flash 
That leaps before the thunder's crash ; 
And somehow I have wished it might 
Blot out and blast my mortal sight, 
For then perhaps I 'd cease to crave 
The beauty that I ne'er can have. 



THE SILENT CALL. 

Come up sometime and tread the turf 

Where I, departed, softly sleep, 
You '11 feel my hov'ring spirit's thrill 

Through all your glowing nature creep. 
And if you chance to plant a flower 

Within the grass that hides my face, 
Believe that from some rose-clad bower 

I smile, and thank the tender grace 
That makes the spot thrice holy ground, 
When your sweet presence there is found. 



12 Home Lyrics. 

AN ANACREONTIC. 

Right off from her bosom 

She plucked me some flowers, 
All sweet as the roses 

In fairy-dew bowers : 
The violet bright 

Shone with passion-lit eyes 
(For its glance had just flashed 

Through her veiled Paradise) ; 
The purple verbena 

And mignonette fair, 
All bound up together 

By the soft maidenhair. 

All sweet were their odors, 

As from Araby blest ; 
But sweeter by far 

Than all of the rest 
Was the perfume they drew 

From Beauty's sweet breast, 
Where I fancy young love 

Has builded his nest, 
And sleeps on soft pillows 

By lilies caressed. 

Yet fade must these flowers, 

And their odors decay, 
For the fashions of Earth 

Must all " pass away ; " 
But the world 's made in vain, 

If we find not again 
Both beauty and flowers 

In some land far away, 
With Love itself regnant, 

Through Eternity's day. 



Salve Regina. — Love's Lament. 1 3 



SALVE REGINA. 

A hundred thousand welcomes ! 
My heart beats like the drums 
That greet the laurelled soldier 

When home from war he comes. 
Wake, wake, my harp, from sadness ! 

Strike every noble strain ! 
For she whose glance is gladness, 
At last is home again : 
Chant the refrain, 
Venus Victrix, 
Et Imperatrix, 
Mea Regina, 
Dea Divina, 
At last is home again. 



LOVE'S LAMENT. 

'T is said that absence conquers love : 
My love is no such feeble thing, 

But one wild clinging round despair, 
Since Jennie's love has taken wing. 

Through her, all Nature looked more sweet ; 

In her, Earth bloomed in constant Spring ; 
But now dark Winter comes apace, 

Since Jennie's love has taken wing. 

The flowers have lost their loveliness, 
The woods no more with music ring, 

The world has turned to emptiness, 
Since Jennie's love has taken wing. 



14 Home Lyrics. 

When on my breast her head was laid, 
I felt me then a throned king ; 

But dust and ashes crown me now, 
Since Jennie's love has taken wing. 

When Jennie smiled, my grief was gone, 
And disappointments lost their sting ; 

But life seems now one long complaint, 
Since Jennie's love has taken wing. 

Yet while I stand and fondly wait, 

And dying still to hope will cling, 
Sweet Jennie's love may yet return, 
And some day o'er my funeral urn 
Light peacefully with folded wing. 



WHY? 



Go where I will, 

By vale or hill, 
One face seems ever nigh ; 

Nor can I tell 

Whence comes the spell 
Of its dark laughing eye. 

E'en if I sleep 

'T will softly creep 
Within my deepest dream, 

And suddenly 

Sweet ecstasy 
Flashes its thrilling beam. 



Why? 15 



Darkness is riven, 
And I through heaven 

Seem lifted into bliss ; 
For that fair face 
Has bowed in grace, 

And dropped on mine a kiss. 



The world is gone, 

Life's toils are done, 
That face forevermore 

Will constant shine 

As mine, as mine, 
On life's eternal shore. 

O happy hour, 

O heavenly bower, 
Where love triumphant reigns, 

And where the heart 

No more shall smart 
With jealousy's sharp pains. 

Go where I will, 

By vale or hill, 
That face is ever nigh ; 

Say, lady fair, 

Can you declare 
This hidden mystery? 

And why it is 
That face divine 
Is like, so very like, 
To thine? 



1 6 Home Lyrics. 



WERE I, BY EARTH'S GREAT AUTHOR'S WORD. 

Were I, by Earth's great Author's word, 
Commissioned to go forth and seize 

On some one gem of all its wealth, 

Which most my hungry heart would please, 

One thing alone I' d ask might be 
God's gift to me ; 

And that, my sweet-souled friend, 

Would be but thee, and only thee. 



MEMNON. 

There 's a voice in her heart, I 'm sure, quite sure, 

That in words would fain speak to me, 
Like that in the silent marble block, 
In its statue yet to be. 

But what power shall wake this voice to speech, 
Since here the statue already stands, 

And her soul through her shining eyes I reach, 
As I press her submissive hands ? 

But the sun just then from a passing cloud 
Kissed her face through its mantling frown, 

And, like Memnon's of old, a voice straightway 
From her violet eyes fell down. 

And this was the word I seemed to hear, 

A thought from her soul upthrown : 
" My friend, I know how Love's currents incline, 
And I know that your heart is mine, all mine." 

But she said not a word of her own, 
Not one word to me of her own. 



A Resurrection. — Life. \"j 



A RESURRECTION. 

The flowers have lost their beauty, 
The wood-birds every song ; 

There 's nothing left but duty, 
And life seems all gone wrong. 

For she, the charm of Nature, 
Whose step with joy was rife, 

Venus in grace and stature, 

Somehow has dropped from life. 

I wander like one dreaming 
Along the crowded ways, 

See naught of sunshine gleaming, 
Nor aught awaking praise. 

" But she '11 yet bring you greeting," 
My heart will sometime say, 

" And with the happy meeting, 
Joy's resurrection day." 



LIFE. 

Life is a battle, 

Though each does his best ; 
And through its war-rattle 

Man drops to his rest. 



1 8 Home Lyrics. 

FAREWELL, FAREWELL, SWEET WOMAN 
THAT I LOVE. 

Farewell, farewell, sweet woman that I love 
With passion deeper than the race ere knew ! 

Would I might fall upon thy snowy breast, 

And there dissolve like summer's drop of dew ! 

Farewell again ! since you and I must part 

I take your smile, but leave with you my heart. 



GENTLE ARE THE WINDS THAT BLOW. 

Gentle are the winds that blow 

In the summer night, 
Gentle are the stars that glow 

In their golden light ; 
But gentler far than wind or star, 
Or Venus in her dove-drawn car, 

Is my Mary in her prime, 

In her rosy vernal time. 

Cheerful are the birds that sing 

In the murmuring grove, 
And the lark on upward wing, 

Hymning forth his love ; 
But cheerful more than songs that soar, 
Or streams that shine with golden ore, 

Is my Mary's loving call, 

Sounding from my open hall. 

Happy is the King to reign ; 

More happy is his Queen, 
And the soldier when again 

He sees his village green ; 



The Rainbow. 19 

But well I ween that King nor Queen, 
Or soldier when his cot is seen, 
Was ever happy half as I, 
When Mary bends on me her eye, 
And yields me her sweet company. 



THE RAINBOW. 

"There 's a rainbow in the sky ! " 
Shout the children as they run, 

With their faces all uplifted 
Toward this picture of the sun. 

And lo, on black clouds eastward 
Stands the arch so high and broad, 

Like a gateway into heaven, 

All bright with the smiles of God. 

Yet a sadness hangs above, 
And the rain-tears drip below, 

With a soft low sound of waters, 
Like grief in its overflow. 

But the sadness breathes of triumph, 
As do battle-fields on earth, 

And the tears are only such 
As baptize a mortal's birth ; 

Or like maidens in that hour 

When athwart their smiles they flow, 
As the lover stoops impatient 

For an answer to his vow. 



20 Home Lyrics. 

And Earth's sorrowing eyes look up 
From the coffin and the shroud ; 

Forgotten every bitter cup, 
In yon glory on the cloud. 

For, dropping down that pathway, 
Such bright robes they seem to see, 

That the stricken heart cries sobbing, 
" Ah ! God's angels come to me." 

Great God ! men's hearts all thank thee, 
When thy rainbows thus arise, 

And they can catch thine own bright smile 
In the world's great tearful eyes. 

But, see ! the sunlight fadeth, 
As the day's last tasks are done, 

And the children now come crying, 
" Alas ! for the rainbow 's gone." 



EYES OF BEAUTY FLASHING BRIGHT. 

Eyes of beauty flashing bright 

Are not always eyes of love, 
Though they wake by their soft light 

Love of beauty where they rove ; 
Kindling ever warm desire 
To kiss the lids that shield their fire : 
Oh, maiden fair, grant me this claim, 
And I will gladly brave the flame. 



A Fable. — Our Star. 2 1 



A FABLE. 

Once on the grass a baby lay, 
And sported through the summer day, 
Till drowsy dreams began to creep, 
And wrapt the baby fast in sleep ; 
And not till evening shadows fell 
Did baby break the drowsy spell ; 
Then, as she waked and looked around, 
Her back upon the dewy ground, 
The star of love was in the skies, 
And shone right down in baby's eyes ; 
And there that star is shining yet, 
In those soft dewy eyes of jet. 
My maiden fair, I tell you true, 
That baby girl was none but you ; 
And hence it is I always see, 
Whene'er I turn my glance on thee, 
The star of love from evening's skies 
Reflected in your shining eyes. 



OUR STAR. 

The clouds are o'er our star, 

Dark clouds of wind and rain, 
As night on night I gaze, 

But gaze for her in vain. 
What means it all ? Am I no more 
To see her light, 
In summer's night, 
Shining on heaven's deep blue-girt shore? 



22 Home Lyrics. 



LADY, FAIR LADY, TELL ME TRUE. 

Lady, fair lady, tell me true, 

Shall I o'er the well of thought, 

Whence the soul's bright tears are brought, 
Lay the stone, and seal from view 
All my holiest thoughts of you ? 

Say not, lady, say not so ! 
Rather, with outpouring hand, 
Shed from life's hour-glass its sand ; — 
Only then will cease to flow 
This soul-fount, from depths below. 



A DREAM BY A FOUNTAIN. 

i. 

I stood beside a fountain fresh and fair, 
With shaft and capital of granite bright, 
And all as yet enclosed from public sight ; 

But she I loved, and she alone, was there. 

ii. 
The whirl and tramp of busy life outside 

Swept onward in a wild tumultuous stream ; 

But what cared I for life or solar beam? 
Her eyes were life and light, and all beside. 

in. 

But, like the trembling bride's, they shone with tears ; 
Pity and love combined seemed struggling there, 
Like cloud and sunshine in the April air : 

I too was moved with sympathetic fears. 



A Dream by a Fountain. 33 

IV. 

Then spake I to this lovely one, and said :■. 

" This Muse of mine, the Muse of plaintive thought, 
AY ho oft to your bright eyes the tear has brought, 

Comes here again, with roses round her head ; 

v. 

" But nevermore shall she implant a sigh 
Beneath your heaving bosom's, snowy fold : 
Her fate to-day is now and here unrolled, — 

Our sad-voiced Muse, though well-beloved, must die ! 

VI. 

" Come, lady, kiss her now a long farewell, 
For in this flowing stream we '11 lay her down, 
And softly sinking there we '11 let her drown, 

And this fair fount shall be her burial cell." 

VII. 

Then spake my Muse, with lovely head upraised : 
" Fair lady, if it be that I must die, 
One prayer I make to you with my last sigh, 

So you may still be loved and fondly praised, — 

VIII. 

" I 've kissed ray poet's lips, and stirred his blood 
To sing his sad but still sweet songs for thee, 
And now I ask you — stand in place of me ; 

Kiss thou his lips, 't will prove ambrosial food, — 
Be thou his Muse, since he dismisses me, — 
And then for both I '11 die most willingly." 

• •••••• 

IX. 

Straightway she plunged beneath the flowing tide ; 
When suddenly my lovely lady fair 
Sprang round, and by her floating golden hair 

Drew her in safety from the farther side. 



• i Home Lyrics. 

\. 

" Sweet Muse," she said, '* l dare not let thee die ; 
[f you '11 but live, the poet I'll appease, 
Put honey on his lips, like Plato's bees, 

Ami then his songs shall never breathe a sigh." 

\i. 
The lady turned to make her promise good, 

Ami smiling lifted her red lips to me ; 

But as I brut for love's sweet jubilee, 
Lo, 1 awoke, and found thai 1 was wooed 

Only in dreams, — unkissed, 1 stood alone ; 

The Muse, tlu- fount, the lady, — all were gone ! 

Ml. 

And so with me that fount shall over stand 
Memorial of a dream as bright as Heaven, 
Bui evanescent as the cloud at even, — 

A bliss that vanished from my grasping hand ! 

So, lady, when at this cool fount you drink, 
(hi me, my dream (my disappointment), think ! 



THE CRESCEN V MOON. 

My lady, seated at her door, 
Lost in the golden sunset view, 

Dreamed not that Luna, o'er her root. 
Unfolded her bright crescent now. 
And shed her blessing from the blue. 

So may it be, sweet lady fair ! 

At each now month o( Dian's rise, 
( >'er your dear roof, where'er it be, 



A Nursery Song 



& 25 



May she drop blessings from the skies, 
And light with joy your smiling eyes. 

\ikI when hereafter you behold 
'The crescent boat on Ether's sea, 

You '11 think upon the days of old, and say, 
"I wonder where that heart can be, 

I wonder where that soul has flown, 
That wove those pleasant lines for me." 

No echo to the friendly sigh 

Falls earthward from the silent sky, 
But still 

The same sweet moon goes shining on. 



A NURSERY SONG. 

My baby has a pair of eyes 

Bright as the bright stars in the skies; 
And whensoe'er she lets them shine. 

The light there flashing seems divine. 

My baby laughs and winks and stares, 
And takes upon her wondrous airs; 

Yet far beyond her looks so wise. 
Is the brightness of her baby eyes. 

Sometimes she seeks in sportive play 
Beneath her hand to hide away, 

But through each finger I descry 
The light of each bright baby-eve. 

My baby 's frail and sad office, 

Yet lacks she not some childish grace; 

And very plaintive are her cries, 
But sweetly bright her baby eyes. 



26 Horn Lyrics. 

Now sleep creeps down and shuts them up, 
Like the petal leaves of the floral cup ; 

And soon, alas ! with soft surprise, 
I lose the light of my baby's eyes. 

Ah, as I read this cheerful lay, 
What pangs within my heart arise ! 

For on a recent autumn day 

Death closed my baby's smiling eyes. 



LOVE-SONG. 

Come, rosy Love, descend and bring 
The joys that calm the lover's breast ! 

Come, fan me with thy purple wing. 
And hush my troubled thoughts to rest, 

My troubled thoughts to rest ! 

Come, fold around my aching heart 
Those pinions purer than the snow ! 

Come, heal the wound thy golden dart 
Implanted there long, long ago, — 
Alas, how long ago ! 

Young life is dark without thy light. 

And ofttimes, as it seems to me, 
Far rougher than the storms of night 

That break alone the wintry sea. 

The cold and wintry sea ! 

Then, rosy 1 ove, descend and bring 

Some joy to soothe my aching breast ! 
Oh, come, and with thy purple wing 
Compose distracting thoughts to rest. 

1 [ush thou this heart to rest ! 



A Cradle Reverie. 27 



A CRADLE REVERIE. 



Hush, hush, my boy ! dost thou not hear 
The angels hovering round ? 
Within the dark, 
If you but hark, 
You '11 hear a murmuring sound ; 
So drive away all fear, 

My dear, 
Your crib is " holy ground." 



Sleep, sleep, my boy ! their wings are near, 
And guard you all around ; 
Then close your eyes, — 
No foes surprise, 
Where their pure forms are found ; 
So drive away all fear. 

My dear, 
Your crib is " holy ground." 

Dream, dream, my boy ! for Heaven is here, 
And angels, brightly crowned, 
Its fragrance shed 
Around thy head, 
And drop the loving tear; 
So drive away all fear, 

My dear, 
Your crib is " holy ground." 



28 Home Lyrics. 



THE ARROW AND THE SONG. 

\ bird sal in the maple's shade, 

Flooding the air with song ; 
When lo ! a boy his arrow sped 

The leafy boughs among. 

rhe song was hushed, the boughs were still; 

1 heard not stir, nor sound ; 
( )nly a feather, son and bright, 

Came circling to the ground. 

( looked above, and there I saw 

The songster mounted high ; 
His plumes he dressed with busy care 

Against a cloudless sk] 

And suddenly again there fell, 

More joyous than before, 
A stream of song, that like a spell 

Filled all my open door. 



1 OVE'S DIRGE. 

•• Eheu ! 
Mortuus est Amor, dulcis Amor" 

OH, what is now the world to me, 
Since 1 OVe, sweet I ove, is <\k:m\ ? 

His grave alone is all 1 see. 

And there 1 lav my head. 

Ambition's call, or Mammon's strife 

For tame or wealth or bread, 
Awakes no echo in my life. 
Since l o\ e, sweet I ove, is dead. 



My Eye was on the Sky, Mary. 29 

Oh, would tli.it I might rend his grave, 

And through its portal tread ! 
His company is all I crave ; 

But Love, sweet Love, is dead. 

Good-by, proud world ; proud world, good-by ! 

No tears for thee 1 shed ; 
I )ark gloom already drapes the sky, 

Now Love, sweet Love, is dead. 

But on his grave 1 'II drop a wreath 

( )l roses while and red ; 
Though naught he knows who sleeps beneath, 
For Love, sweet Love, is dead. 

Let others love, if love (hey can, 

And in his name be wed ; 
But joy seems now all lost to man, 

Since Love, sweet Love, is dead. 



MY EYE WAS ON THE SKY, MARY. 

My eye was on the sky, Mary, 

When clouds were spreading fast, 
And my thoughts were dark and sad, Mary, 

Sad as the autumn's blast ; 
But I saw a brighl blue spot, Mary, 

That lingered to the last, — 
Bright as your own blue eye, Mary, 

It smiled down on my way ; 
And I thought of our early love, Mary, 

When both our hearts were gay, 
When that love was cheered with song, Mary, 

lake the lark's mid the new-mown hay, 
And all our life \vas bright, Mary, 

Bright as the rising day. 



}0 Home Lyrics. 

Bui soon the clouds rolled on, Mary, 
They veiled that spot oi' blue, 

And oh, 1 could not help, M.u v. 

Its fading from my view. 

Ami so when it was gone, Mary, 
i\!v heart grew sad and sore. 

For it seemed that I should have, Mary, 
\i>ur hue's bright light no more ; 

And darkness veiled my thoughts, Mary, 
As they turned to the days of yore, 

And I feared your once fond heart, Mary. 
1 lad closed its open door ; 

While 1 bowed my head and wept, Mary, 
That my heart could he glad no more. 



i:n PASSANT. 

THERE are some lair sights in this world of ours 
Besides its verdure and its (lowers. 
Its mountains old, and ivied towers, 
And its billows from the sea ; 

And one I saw, this morning bright, — 
Mushed o'er with morning's purple light, 
A fresh young girl, all clad in white. 
With her love-son ,, on her knee. 

As she sat serene by her father's door. 

The very porch seemed running o'er 
\\'i:h a glory from some happier shore 

Than we are wont to see. 
In truth, it was a pretty sight, — 
That fair young girl all clad in white, 
Soft seated like a bride ofh'ght, 

1 »ut — not a bride for me. 



Song of the Absent [.over. 31 

And my conscious years, mid starting tears, 
In sad refrain thus voi< c<\ my fears: 
"This sight the lovely morning wears 

Is not designed for thee. 
Thy youth is fled, thy morning dead, 
Love only grants one bridal bed ; 
And this sweet maid, so fair to wed, 

I i not a bride for thee." 

And my feet moved slow, hut the thoughts came fast, 
hull thronging from the rose < lad past, 
While my swimming eyes to earth were cast, 

As I saw the vision flee ; 
Hut the fair young girl there, (lid in white, 
Dreamed not that shadows paled the light 
Of one who chanced \>> see that sight, 

And the love songs on her knee. 



SONG OF Till': ABSENT LOVER. 

When the autumn leaves are dying, 
When the frosly winds are sighing, 
And the wintry clouds are flying, 
Thru my Love 

Breathes love to me. 

When the snows have hushed the valley, 
Blocked the street and dreary alley 

-And the ice has hound the galley, 
Then my Love 

Sends warmth to me. 



32 Home Lyrics. 

When the weary night is closing, 
When the fire is slowly dozing, 
And the world seems all reposing, 
Then my Love 

O'ershadows me. 

When great woes seem swift impending, 
And the very earth seems rending, 
Bringing life a bitter ending, 
Then my Love 

I know is bending, 
Bending low 

In prayer for me. 

So through all our absent hours 
I can sit in Eden's bowers, 
Flecked and decked with light and flowers, 
For my Love 

Like sunlit sea 
Thus so true and faithfully, 

Rolls her golden waves to me. 



LOVES VASTNESS. 

My love is like the sunrise, 
When it cometh in its might, 

To scatter far the darkness 
And drive away the night ; 

And like the upper ether 
And circumambient air, 

That stretcheth over all things, 
And spreadeth everywhere ; 



Love's Roundelay. 33 

And like the billowy ocean 

That murmurs round the world, 
With its hymn of myriad voices 

That far and wide are hurled ; 

And like the universal thought 

That filleth up all space, — 
No eye can see, no step pursue, 

No mind its course can trace. 

For all this love so mighty, 

Where, think you, is its rise ? 
Two fathomless dark fountains 

My lady calls her eyes. 

Then careful be, bright lady ! 

Quench not its mystic flame ; 
For if you close those eyes on me, 

You jar all Nature's frame. 



LOVE'S ROUNDELAY. 

Smile down, ye shining stars, smile down, 
And earth and rolling seas give voice, 

Let everything in Nature smile, 
And with my happy heart rejoice. 

No longer in the depths I lie, 
Tormented by the demon Fear, 

But. walking on the heights of earth, 
The glowing heavens seem very near. 

Nay, more ; like soaring lark I seem 
To rise, and float in liquid song, 

While all the music of the spheres 
To me and to my song belong. 



34 Heme Lyrics. 

For she, the fairest, sweetest soul 
That e'er was formed of earthly clay, 

Has smiled assent upon my love, 
And given my life its shining day. 

Then catch my song, glad souls above, 
And bear my joy through heaven away, 

For I would have the angels join 
In this my royal roundelay. 

But hark there falls from out the sky ! 

A sweet but sympathetic voice, 
And these the words I seem to hear : 

" Yes, poor misguided soul, rejoice ; 
But know the bliss you think is yours, 

And which you bid all Nature share, 
Will be to you, as with the larks, 

Mere flights of song through upper air." 

My heart stood still at this strange voice 

Thus wafted from the clouds above. 
But soon again in joy broke forth, 
And filled the sky from south to north, 
" She smiles assent upon my love." 

And who is he, 

On land or sea, 
( )r in the rolling worlds above, 
That dare my happiness disprove, 
When she, the fairest flower on earth. 
Unfolds her leaves and shares love's birth. 



Love. j 5 



LOVE. 

A TRANSLATION FROM THE GERMAN, 

When soft o'er rose-clad hillside 
The day's beams westward creep, 

And night with drowsy pinions 
Drops from the starry deep, 

Will I of love be singing, 
With lute-born music meet, 

The while my locks inweaving 
With myrtle garlands sweet. 

Night's grotto shall be murmuring 
Love's praises from my lips, 

When only shall be watching 
The fountain, as it drips. 

And when the star of morning 

In far-off depths I trace, 
As through the rosy dawning 

It marcheth on apace, 

I '11 sing, in clefts yet cooler, 

My love-hymn all alone. 
Where dance the fragrant flowers 

Now slumber-time has flown ; 

While round and round me wakens 
The nightingale's sweet cheer, 

With every meadow laughing 
In every shepherd's ear. 

Than Love, no greater sweetness 
Descends on mortal men ; 

For what before was sadness 
Becomes full rapture then. 






rO STE1 1 A. 

\\ wv\ is he who, when afar 

From home and one he loves the best, 
Can look upon the evening star, 

Vnd draw from it a true heart rest, 
Well knowing that two loving eyes 

With I evening's skies. 



nir STAR OF BEAUTY. 

If 1 should wako sonic solemn ni 
Ami find the st urs swept from the sky, 

Fhe m< h all her kindly light 

Hurled from the sea of blue on high. 

One star below I \1 strive to find ; 

And it' its brightness 1 could see. — 
The st tuty's eye and mind, — 

' r would be the universe to me, 
And moon and stars need no more rise 
It' 1 might bask in Beauty's eyes. 



CO BRIGHT EYES 

V' the sun should fail to i 
V v. leave the world to darkness dn 
j o ir shining ej es, 

And night, before those orbs so clear. 
Will fold her robes and disappear. 



To >>iv Boy 



I 



TO MY BOY. 

A PI HI A I \ CM I II", kill!' 

I:. m\ I n'.lllllliil l>('\ , 

I I is cml ili-in of powei 

The spoi i <>! the hour, — 

An ivorj i in; , 

( >i sin h mmi| 'If linn:;, — 

1 1 is sceptre .1 painted toy. 

I If wields not ;i su mil, 

1 [e utters no word, 

Bui the lighl "i his eye, 

As you in.M des< ry, 
( 'oik [uers ill to his will, 
Bids Life's billows be still, 

And yet I 1 anno! it'll why. 

Yi'i v small is his hand, 
Ti > direct and ci immand, 
Like 1 lord ol the land ; 
But in ii l see 

Two hearts snug it rest, 

I ike eggs in :i nest, 
I wom lei \\ Tu ise heai ts the) can be ! 



\ 1 ., .1 potent young king 
Is m\ beautiful I loy, 

With his ivoi v 1 ing 

And his sceptre of toy ; 

So potenl Ins 1 ule, 
Si • royal his sw ay, 
I fear thai si ime da) 

1 1 is mother and l , 

I n the heai t's flood ol ji 13 , 



58 Home Lyrics. 

May fall down and worship 

Our beautiful boy ; 
But we 'd both be forgiven, 
For he 's just out of heaven, 

And Christ knows the beauty 
Of this kingly young boy. 



VOX CORDIS. 

I laid my ear on Mary's breast, 
To learn the secrets of her heart ; 

And as its pulses rose and fell, 
Sending their streams through every vital part, 

These words I heard in music sweet ami true. 
"This heart beats love, but love supreme to you, 

To you, to you. 
With floods besides tor our dear children too." 

Dec. 28, 1869. 



THE LAST RKQUEST. 

O Mary of the stainless breast, 

Whereon my head so oft has lain, 
Grant me, I pray, this last request : 

When Death would (.Ira- me with his slain. 
Then let my head here sweetly lie. 

That through the agony ami strife 
My soul may win- its way on high, 
Pass the bright portals of the skv, 

fresh with the perfume of thy holy life. 



Another Sepulchre and another Mary. 39 



ANOTHER SEPULCHRE AND ANOTHER 

MARY. 

Some day, but just how far remote 
I cannot tell, nor would I know, 
Another Mary thus shall stand 
Where a new tomb its walls expand, 
And weep o'er lifeless dust below. 

Not dust divine, — alas ! not so, — 

But sadly sinful dust of one 
Who hath no hope of life to come, 
Nor joy beyond his earthly home, 

Save through the death of Mary's Son. 

And if she wept beside the grave 

Of hers and God's great royal Son, 
It was because she knew not then 
The soul's great victory hurrying on, 

Through what the dying Christ had done. 

Then, Mary, as thy widowhood 

Steeps with warm tears his sleeping dust, 
Who once gave thee the name of bride, 
And through long years walked by thy side, 
And though unworthy held thy trust, 

Remember this : that he for whom 
The sainted Mary shed her tears 

May yet this sleeping dust awake, 

And crown it with eternal years 

In his high home beyond the spheres. 



40 Home I : 



A WISH. 

Oh, would 1 might find .1 right royal rose 
into which 1 could lay mv sweet love ' 
its soft velvet leaves should bo her bed clothes 

1 ler lull. tin, songs of the dove. 
i>ti her. as she lay, would fall .1 fair dream 

That to heaven once more she had come ; 
And to me, sitting by, it would tenderly seem 
She had found her first cradle-bed home ; 
V\ hile through moonbeams all bright, 

As round her they creep, 
Whisper angels of light : 
•• Sweetheart, your sweet love 
w e will rock fast asleep, 

To the son.; of \ ourself ami the Pove." 



I'l OKA'S FIRST BORN, 

\ . . x . 1 . \\ .' . ■ - .-.. Euripides 

1 1 oj . little pilgrim from the skies ! 
Lift up thy he. nl. unveil thine eyes, 
1 00k out upon tins world below. 
Where thou with men must come and go, — 
First see. in these fresh blooming flowers, 
A welcome tor tin- dawning hours ; 
Ami through thv waking slumbers hear 
l"'\ fainting mother's happy prayer, 
"That while thy footsteps linger here 
All love and flowers thv way may cheer." 
So, little wanderer from the skies. 
1 ift up thv head, unveil thine eyes, 
rhat in their beams our own may see 
The light of Heaven come down with thee. 



The Morning-glory. 41 



THE M GLORY. 

In darkness and in te 

htow sped, 
f with lacerated heart 
pt vigil with the dead, 
And o'er my baby's pallid brow 
The :d water shed. 

i morning broke, but, ah ! 
It brought no light to me ; 

: that solemn day should pass, 
My child would hidden 
pond the reach of mortal hand, 
ealed for eternity. 

In wretched mood I turn 
And flung th tent wide, 

:n, lo ! in all its pearly bloom, 
10ft and tender pride, 
The morning-glor] ! its head, 

And blessed rne as I sighed. 

From out its smiling eyes 

Flowed words of sweetest tone, 

And whispered that in Paradi 
With glory like its own, 

My child that morning bloomed, 
Above Christ's holy thro,. 

And so this flower to rne became 

The precious emblem of its name. 



•• ■ 



rO MY SON ON HIS rENTH BIRTHDAY 

Fun irst d< i s has fled, 

Ca ".1. and bright. — 

A'- me hon « ill I 
When lite fa l< - g tit ! 

How wilt thou bear and how employ 

The interval of years, 
And with what exit w 

t this . i MS? 

[tan ost i say, 

it all ; 

When call. 

Hie si th] hte 

An< - .... . — 

Amen - maj I 
My boy, 
S t be thee. 



. NTAIN OPENED, 

Mar\V leart 

A - . 

As no\« '. -. - ■ 

.. 

a - 

Th:. ss and . I ate, 

crag ■> e, 

And hen s 



The Ring. 43 

God bless the heart from which they flow, 

And keep that streamlet ever pure, 
That there life's brightest (lowers may -row ; 

And while those fountain streams endure, 
May I those flowers and waters know. 

Along their banks my feet would stray, 
Ami watch their currents' gentle tide ; 

Amid those (lowers my hand would play. 
And help the dropping blossoms ^hdc 
As happy voyagers on their way. 

And when, as life's last days shall come, 

My spirit seeks a holier sphere, 
Forth like those blossoms I would roam 

Upon that stream still clear and fair, 
And calmly steer towards heaven mv home. 

While your bright eye shall guide me there. 



THE RING. 

Receive this pledge, mv gentle friend, 
Oi hearts I hope now knit in love. 

Knit till the hours oi life shall end. 
And those begin we spend above. 

Type of earth's love, oh, may it ne'er 
Hear witness to that love's decay, 

But ever down life's valley drear 
Pour golden sunlight on our way. 

Emblem of that eternal love 

That waits us on the heavenly hills. 

When life is o'er, there may we rove. 
And drink from out their crystal rills. 



44 1 Ionic Lyrics. 

Symbol of that tar distant land 

fo which your feet arc winged for flight. 
While on the way, may God's good hand 
Shield you each day. and guard at night. 

But wherefore pray? He '11 check the blast 
And gently smooth the roughest sea. 

When on its waves his hand hath cast 
A loved disciple like to thee. 

Then, if the tempest called to brave, 
Remember, as you wildly ride. 

That Christ who once hath trod the wave 
Walks by your vessel's laboring side. 

So with my gift, fond carrier dove, 
Forth on thy friendly mission roam ; 

But may its tender cords o( \o\c 

Soon draw you back to me and home. 



OUR PLEDGE AND PRAYER. 

THEN, Mary, let us clasp to-day 
Life's solemn goblet, hand on hand. 
And as its depths before us lay, 
Lift up our hearts to (]o*.\. and pray 
That what we cannot understand 
He will make plain . and kindly wreathe 
Some purple flowers and garlands green 
Around our cup : and warmly breathe 
A heavenly blessing underneath, 
That when old Time their leaves shall glean. 
And envious drop the fennel's spray 
Within the cup. then nearly drained. 



A Homeward Call. 45 

To poison thus our closing day, 

The sweetness of those waters may 

By that one blessing be retained. 

Till life shall cease, and heaven be gained. 



A HOMEWARD CALL. 

Gentle lad v. far away 

On the wild Pacific shore, 
Where the mountain billows play 

And like breaking thunders roar, 
Hark, and from thy northern hills 

Thou mayst hear a plaintive sound, 
Soft as gurgling wood-bound rills, 

Creeping o'er the mossy ground ; 
And that plaintive sound shall be 

Love's own murmuring notes to thee. 

'T is thy lover's humble lyre. 

Fresh attuned with hopeful string; 
But though love his song inspire, 

Only sad notes can he sing, — 
Strike its chords howe'er he will, 

Gladness will not settle there, 
And its tones grow sadder still. 

Almost verging towards despair, 
As each melancholy strain 

Calls for thee, but calls in vain. 

Yet perchance some notes may fall. 
Like silver bell-chimes in thy bower. 

And tin' heart shall hear his call, 
At the sunset's pensive hour, 



46 Home Lyrics. 

Waking in thy bosom kind 
Love's soft echo to his cry, 

And upon the western wind 
He may catch affection's sigh, 

Softly breathing words of cheer, 
As it seeks his listening ear. 

But though sad his song must be, 

Still its strains shall stir the air, 
Floating towards that boundless sea, 

Calling on his " ladye-fayre," 
Till at length thy fond heart yields 

To deep passion's tender wail, 
And o'er ocean's briny fields 

Thou shalt lift the homeward sail ; 
Then thy lover's hand shall ring 

Heaven-born joy from every string, 
And in notes exultant sing 

Love's own deep mysterious tale. 



FAREWELL LOVE-SONG. 

When your lover rides the sea, 

Scores of miles away. 
If it dark and stormy be, 

Think of him and pray. — 

Pray that safe his bark may go 
Along the swelling wave, 

That it ne'er may overflow 
And bear him to his grave. 



To our Bessie s Pet Deg. 47 

Turn thine eyes, at close of day, 

Where the billows roll, 
And their light shall find a way 

To his lonely sun I. 

He shall feel thy cheek's warm glow 

Reflected from the tide, 
And though sad, he then will know 

Thou art by his side. 

And above the mountain wave 

He will send a prayer 
Which old ocean's storms shall brave 

To fall upon thine ear. 

Then, when your lover rides the sea 

Many miles away, 
Though it dark and stormy be, 

At the hour of closing day 
Think of him and pray. 



TO OUR BESSIE'S PET DOG. 

Juov, my thoughtful dog, 
As I look in thy deep brown eyes, 

Let me do what I will, 

My spirit mounts still 
To the land beyond the skies. 

Judy, why is it so, 
As I look in thy pensive face, 

That the soul soars away 

From the shell of clay 
To that far-off resting-place? 



.(S Home Lyrics, 

Judy, why do I see, 
In thy gambols round my chair, 
A sweet form sporting gay, 
Like a child at play. 

Or a sprite upon the air? 

Judy, oh, tell me where 
Is she o( the gentle hand, 

Who smoothed thy silken ear. 
And COUrted thee with fear. 
As the birds the billowy strand? 

Judy, my faithful doc. 
As I look in thy deep hrown eves, 
1 see thou knowest well 
Why my thoughts will dwell 
In the land beyond the skies. 



EARTH'S MOTHER-LOVE. 

11k who once has known a mother 
Kind and loving through his youth. 

Nevermore can love another 

With an equal Strength and truth. 

Mother — 't is a word that opened 
lips divine in Bethlehem's stall. 
And that word has ever tokened 

Christ's own love to those that fall. 

From that life of sad dejection 
All the Lord could bear above 

Was the pure, soul fed affection 
Of his Virgin Mother's love. 



The Sabbath Snow-storm. 49 

Well he knew her deep devotion 

To the babe that graced her knee, 
Well recalls her wild emotion 

Witnessed at the fatal tree. 

And from those enthroned in glory, 

As the circling ages move, 
He will still respect the story 

Of a mother's earthly love. 

For it seems man's first contrition, 

Prompting to the heavenly birth, 
Oft matures to full fruition 

Through a mother's prayers on earth. 

Let earth, then, in grateful chorus 
Chant the Mother-love she's known, 

Glad that God's own child before us 
Lore its fragrance to his throne. 



THE SABBATH SNOW-STORM. 

'Twas Sabbath morn, a cloudy day, 

When earth in sacred silence lay, 

That snow-flakes crowding from the sky 

In sweet celestial purity 

Came floating, floating softly down, 

Like leaves from heavenly gardens blown, 

Dropping, dropping soft and slow, 

To the quiet world below. 



50 Home Lyrics. 

The baby boy upon my knee 

Clapped his little hands in glee, 

And leaped as though he too would float, 

On zephyr wings or airy boat, 

With those bright snow-flakes from the sky, 

As down they came so silently, 

Dropping, dropping soft and slow, 

To the quiet world below. 

But failing thus to soar away, 

Soon in thoughtfulness he lay, 

Till hushed his laugh, and calmed his glee, 

He sank to sleep upon my knee, — 

Watching, wondering at the snow 

Dropping, dropping soft and slow, 

To the quiet world below. 

Thus, thus, O Lord, grant it may be 

In the final day with me ; 

When flesh, to which earth's burdens cling, 

Fails in its efforts to take wing, 

Oh, may thy graces, like the snow, 

Dropping earthward soft and slow 

O'er my fading life below, 

Give to me, on death's dark steep, 

As one of thy " beloved," sleep ! 



WHEN I'M GANE AWA\ 

And, Mary, when I 'm gane awa', 
And ye nae mair shall see me, 

The guid I 've done I '11 leave behin' 
(Though say nae much aboot it) ; 

The bad — I '11 tak' it wi' me : 
My love, don't iver doot it ! 



The Summer Storm. e i 



THE SUMMER STORM. 

Behold he comes, the mighty storm ! 

See how he spreads his wings afar ; 
And hark ! along the mountain top 

Is heard the thunder of his car. 

Lo ! there his winged heralds go, 

Bowing the tree- tops as they fly, 
And see from off his chariot wheels 

The lightnings flame along the sky. 

The neighing of his steeds I hear, 
The rush of all their myriad wings ; 

What mighty voices fill the air, — 

What swelling clouds, what floods he brings ! 

Behold ! the lightning of his spear 
Has touched the hale and giant oak, 

And, reeling like a warrior maimed, 
Headlong he falls beneath the stroke. 

He 's here, — ay here, — I fear his power ; 

How wildly shakes my humble cot ! 
And see ! the flashing of his eye 

Is searching every hidden spot. 

But now his pealing thunder 's fled, 

No longer do I dread his wrath ; 
He sheds the rain, the harvest rain, 

Along his dust-beclouded path : 
Earth hails the blessing on her lands. 
And lifts to Heaven her thankful hands. 



52 Ho7Jic Lyrics. 



THE TRIPLE HOME AMONG THE HILLS. 

Religion, Liberty, and Love 

Once met upon the hills, 
And there resolved a home to build 

Amid their rushing rills. 

Religion laid the corner-stone, 

And Liberty the rest, 
While Love hung banners round the hearth, 

And pledged herself its guest. 

The hills were bleak, and oft the clouds 

Enwrapt the mountains' brow, 
But o'er their sides the heather's bloom, 

Like sunrise, shed its glow. 

And though the climbing shepherd's song 

These clouds would oft detain, 
Yet when it struck the valley's heart, 

He caught a sweet refrain. 

The sea beat fiercely round this home, 

And raged through all its bays ; 
But still its altar-stones stood fast, 

Still rose its hymns of praise. 

And when mad foes ran cruel sword 

Down chapel aisle and halls, 
No quivering wail of fear was heard 

Within its broken walls ; 

But from the gate went men of strength 

To battle for the Truth, 
While vestal maidens nursed its fires 

With loyalty of Ruth. 



Impromptu Lines. 53 

And still where true Religion calls, 

Or Liberty makes cry, 
These men from out this mountain land 

Are swift to do or die. 

For there still shines the purest faith, 

There flows the clearest mind, 
And there are stored the songs that cheer 

And bless our common kind. 

And ever where the stricken heart 

Outpours its sad complaint, 
There matrons from this rock-built home 

Uplift the souls that faint. 

Know'st thou the land, the happy land, 

That holds this triple home ? 
Ah yes, from every tongue I hear 

The loving tribute come : 

Scotland, grim Scotland, is the land 
Where glows this home of light ! 
Long may it stand 
Above her strand, 
To point the world Truth's pathway grand 
Toward Liberty and Right. 



IMPROMPTU LINES 

WRITTEN IN A SCRAP-BOOK AT NIAGARA, SEPTEMBER, 1850. 

Niagara's ancient chorus, ceaseless from his birth, 
Sends boldly up to heaven the mighty song of earth, 
And seems to say, " My strains alone can scale the sky, 
And form an earthly bass to angel harmony." 



54 '" s 



AFTER nil' OCEAN STORM. 

Vile slippery weeds are on the beach, 

And vile things through them creep and erawl. 
And gentle woman's snowy feet 
Respond not to old ocean's call ; 
•• No, no." they say, 
•• Some other day. 
When yon will not our steps betray." 
And so they race like sheep away. 



RELAPSE. 



As when the shipwrecked swimmer strikes 

With hopeful heart the solid shore. 
Some spiteful billow hears him back 

To ocean's stormy strife and roar ; 
So 1. while struggling out from ills. 

And cheerful climbing heights of health. 
Conscious of Nature's freshened strength. 

Find siime dark fiend seize me by stealth. 

And fling me from the happy shore. 

Back, back to troubled seas once more ; — 
Yet still for this I will not be dismayed. 
Bui battle on till shore again be made. 
Or on the beach, full vanquished, I am laid ! 



Prologue to Shakspeare. 55 

PROLOGUE TO SHAKSPEARE, 

uKii 23, [86a. 

Soft paled the fading stars with tender light, 
As dawn came quivering o'er the mhos of night, 
Vnd sweel the music of the rolling spheres 
As day's bright breaking on the lulls appears ; 
Ami trebly bright that blazing April morn 
When sturdy Shakspeare, king of men, was born. 

Old Warwick's battered walls, so grim and proud. 
With Avon smiled beneath the silver cloud 
That, like an angel's wing, bedecked the sky 
Which overhung earth's cradled poesy; 
While all the echoes of that lovely vale, 
With songs of birds on hawthorn-scented gale, 
And floating breezes in the meadows horn, 
And voice of flowers by all the hedges worn, 
('.nne murmuring peace around that cottage door, 
Where this young king lay lapped among the poor. 

The child arose, and from the hand of God 
Received his gift, as forth he strolled abroad 
By break, and stream, and clover-woven field. 
And lowly cot behind the hedge concealed ; 
Then chanted songs, and framed the stormy line, 
And poured his thoughts as Rhenish hills the wiue 
loom clustered houghs that climb and creep on high. 
Where heaven's own wealth drops through the morning sky. 

forth then to manhood springing ripe and strong, 
He pealed afar his bugle-notes of song ; 

And gathered round his flaming furnace door 



56 Home Lyrics. 

The high and low, the rich, the humble poor, 
To see him, in a flood unmarred by stain, 
Pour forth the molten lava of his brain, 
And cast great characters of human life, 
Portraying passion in its varied strife, — 
From tender love and jealousy's alarm, 
To sordid lust and magic's mystic charm, 
And stern ambition through its battle-storm, 
And selfish traits of every type and form • — 
These with a giant's grasp he seemed to hold 
As /Kolus the great, in days of old, 
Held close the stormy winds ; yet bade them go 
Whene'er he wished great tempest blasts to blow 
Along gray Neptune's seething floods below. 

• • • • • • • 

Thus in his glory did he proudly stand 
The boast of one, the joy of every land ; 
And as through years now gathered with the past, 
So through the years to come while earth may last, 
Shall these great characters from his great pen 
Be known and recognized and read of men, 
As long they walk the thousand paths of earth, 
Clothed by his power with more than mortal birth. 

Another April morn came creeping o'er the hill ; 

But Nature's sky was dark, her voice was still. 

The birds for once refused their matin hymn, 

The lily paled, the poppy's blush grew dim ; 

At eventide the morning's dewy tear 

Upon each clover blossom still was clear. 

And still was Avon's vale, — like Sabbath morn 

When old St. Mary's tower, so grim and worn, 

Breathes forth from chiming bells some sacred strain, 

That softly hushes hamlet, hill, and plain, 

And bids a Sabbath peace through all the region reign. 



Cupid and Venus. 57 

The silent woods a solemn aspect wore ; 
And Avon, sobbing round her grassy shore, 
Seemed slowly creeping in her tears away, 
To pour her grief upon the distant bay, 
That moaning ocean in his rolling surge 
Might waft alar her Poet's solemn dirge ; — 
( )ld men set forth the oft succeeding sigh, 
And aproned maidens wiped the tearful eye, 
As low the whisper round the river ran, 
That Avon's bard had filled his wonted span, 
And on the April day that marked his birth 
Angels had called him far away from earth. 

So on this doubly consecrated day 

To his great genius we our reverence pay, 

And bathe our souls through one bright running hour 

With fresh memorials of the Poet's power, 

Thanking our God, who kindly sent below 

This mighty voice of human joy and woe, 

To cheer life's dreary tide as home its currents flow. 



CUPID AND VENUS. 

In your boy I seem to see 
Cupid at his mother's knee 
(Though he 's better off for clothes) ; 
And this the reason, I suppose, 
That his mother unto me 
Venus' self must ever be, — 
Venus rising from the sea, 
Faultless in her form and pose, 
Neptune's bright auroral rose. 



58 Home Lyrics. 

A VOICE IN THE TEMPEST. 

At dawn from out my storm-tost roof-tree's shade, 
As wildly dashed the drenching summer rain, 

Amid the pauses that the thunders made, 
I hoard a sweet bird pour its cheerful strain, 

Flooding the air again and yet again 
With thrilling melody. 

Unto my clouded heart it spake and said : 

" When Life's fierce tempests through thy cottage sweep, 

And thunders echo o'er thy trembling head ; 

When cares like armed bands from ambush leap, — 
Learn this : To sing is better than to weep. 
So lift thy roundelay." 



THE FROSTED PANE. 

On frosted pane I traced a name, 

And thought how soon the lines would fade. 
When on the fretted ice-work there 

The storm and sun's great power were laid. 

I looked again, the frost was gone ; 

And on its lines of crystal lace, 
So richly woven on the pane, 

Not one had left a single trace. 

But hold ! still present on the glass 

There faintly stands the cherished name, 

Surviving winter's midnight blast, 
And winter's mid-day solar flame. 

So on my heart that same sweet name 

Is writ as by a diamond rare ; 
Nor freezing frost, nor fiery flame, 
Nor death that nulls the mortal frame, 

Can e'er erase its record there. 



The Hidden Flower. 59 



THE HIDDEN FLOWER. 

Give mc a little spot, I pray, 

Within thy faithful heart, 
Where my poor timid love may plant 

A modest flower apart ; 
It will not need thy special care, 

Only thy training art. 

A little space, I ask no more, — 

A spot no eye may see, 
For like the spruce upon the rocks 

It asks but leave to be - 
Though why it grows or how it grows 

Is Nature's mystery, 

But in its time and down the years 
My plant shall stronger grow. 

And through your life of smiles and tears 
A fragrance sweet bestow ; 

Though no one else but you and I 
Its source shall ever know. 

How many hearts — ah, who can tell? — 

How many hearts of earth 
Are perfumed by such secret flowers 

That love has brought to birth, 
But never can be plucked and worn 

In open joyous mirth ! 

Ah me ! ah me ! how true it is 
And true must ever be, 



60 Home Lyrics. 

Love plants in almost every life 
Its flower of mystery : 

Sweet one, I fancy it is thus 
Even with you and me. 



COR CORDIUM. 



Fair lady, this round world of ours 
Is reckoned old and wide ; 

To sum up its completed hours 
Has wise men all defied. 

And far beyond its utmost bound 

Mysterious paths extend ; 
And who their distances can sound, 

Who their dark depths descend ? 

But vast as these in time and reach, 
My heart its love outpours ; 

It sweeps beyond earth's ocean-beach 
To lave the eternal shores. 

Not gods nor men have ever known 

A struggling heart like mine ; 
Ungird, I pray, your belted zone, 
And lay it near to thine, — 
For since it cannot longer be 
Of use to me, 
I toss it on thy shrine. 



The Lady's Paradox. 61 



THE LADY'S PARADOX. 

Lady of beauty ripe and fair, 

Lady of thoughtful words and rare, — 

How shall I read 

Thy faith or creed 
In those bright eyes 
And flowing hair? 

How shall I find 

Thy hidden mind 
When thy sweet lips 
My soul eclipse, 

And love's own star 
To me low dips ? 

Lady of mystery ayont my reach, 
Lady of adverse word and speech, — 

"Love," thou dost say, 

" Should cheer life's day," 
And yet love's joy 
Thou me wouldst teach 

Must buried be 

In piety 
And holy life, 
That sin's wild strife 

No more may stir, 

My sanctity. 

Lady of beauty ripe and rare, 
Come tell me now, if thou dost dare, 

How thou canst make 

(For I can't see) 
Thy words and thy sweet kiss agree ? 



62 Home Lyrics. 

WHITHER AWAY? 

ON ECHO RIVER IN MAMMOTH CAVE, KY., 1 862. 

Down on a silent river deep, 
Where ne'er has fallen solar ray, 

Down where the earthquakes darkly creep, 

And clouds impenetrable sleep, 
We float, Louise ! whither away ? 

Not now the starry chambers glow, 

In soft delusion far above, 
While streams of beauty downward flow 
From cliffs adorned by moon and snow, 

That hold us by their spell of love. 

Not now we grope the Stygian shore, 

Where viewless shades hang hovering round, 

Nor list the cascade's hidden roar, 

Nor Gorin's labyrinth explore, 

Nor search the deep pit's vast profound. 

Now high the grim walls frowning rise, 
Now on our very backs they lay, — 
Full fifty fathoms through, their size, — 
Yet on we float with dreamy eyes, 
Whither, Louise, whither away ? 

The dull wave yields no plashing sound, 

As on the beach of gravelled bay ; 
For through these depths of rocky ground 
No path the summer breeze has found 
To waft us on our mystic way. 

Hark ! 'tis the boatman's heavy tone, 
That breaks the silence dim and gray ; 



Acknowledgment. 63 

It floats afar, and all alone 
Fades faintly through some distant zone, 
As fades a human life away. 

Pale is the light upon our prow, 

Round which no sparkling ripples play ; 
Pale is the color on your brow, 
Though loud and full your pulses flow, 
As on your vernal bridal day. 

Down on this silent river deep 

Shall sirens sing us on our way ? 
Shall Lethe through our senses creep ? 
Or shall we reach again earth's steep, 

Where all our mortal treasures lay? 

Oh, who can tell the course we float 

Along this dark sepulchral bay ? 
Whither, Louise, now drifts our boat? 
Whither drift we, from light remote, 

Whither, Louise, whither away? 



ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

Lady, fair lady with the down-drooping eyes, 

How pure in your thoughtfulness here you appear, 

An angel descended from out the blue skies, 

Watching and waiting by some mortal's death-bier. 

Lady, fair lady, if those same drooping eyes 

Might but look into mine as they close upon earth, 

The spirit I 'm sure would more gladly arise, 
And wing its way hence for more glorious birth. 



t'4 Home Lyrics, 

THE MARAH OF THE HEART. 

Where beats the heart that does not hold 

Within its ceaseless fount 
Sonic Marah streams of bitterness 

That upward ever mount ? 

And where the earthly charm or power 

To heal the bitter tide, 
To soothe the saddened spirit's moan. 

And give it back its pride? 

It is not here — but holy faith. 
Far reaching through the skies, 

Plucks from the tree of life that grows 
Where living waters rise ; 

And on the ruddy stream she easts 
The leal' that thence was riven, 

When lo ! the bitter stream becomes 
A sweetened rill from Heaven. 



FOR AN ALBUM. 

May thy soft eyes, which like twin stars 
Shed liquid light on dewy morn. 

Be safely kept through life's wild jars, 
And ne'er with heart-born grief be torn. 

For oftentimes 1 seem to see 

beneath their tearful lustre shown 

A ray of sad despondency. 
Born of a secret all your own, 

As though some hope had taken wing, 

And ceasing in the heart to sing, 

Like song-birds when the day is clone, 
\\m\ far into the darkness flown. 



Our Flag in 1864. 65 



OUR FLAG IN [864. 

Fling, fling our banner out, 
Willi loyal song and shout, 
< )Vr every home and hill, 
By each deep valley's mill, 
And lei its heaven lit beam 
Round every hearthstone gleam, 
And fill tin' passing hour — 
This pregnant, fateful hour — 

With all iis stirring \ oi< es, 
And the thunder <>i its power. 

The foe is striking hard ; 
But in die castle yard 

Uprise fresh traitor hands, 

To snatch hum oul OUl hands, 

From fortress and from sea, 
This banner of the free, 
To give it coward flight, 
That Anarchy's dark night, 

With all iis muttering thunders, 
May swallow up its light. 

Ay, when our soldiers brave, 
( )n battle-field and wave, 
Sprang forth with deadly stroke 
Through war's dark cloudy smoke, 
( )ui standard to uphold, 
And save its every fold, 
These home horn traitors cry, 
" (hid granl no vi< lory," 

Though scores of gallanl heroes 
Round the- old flag bravely die. 



66 Home Lyrics. 

Rise, then, each loyal man ! 
Your home horizon scan ; 
And plant the Nation's flag 
On hillside and on crag ; 
And let your swelling soul 
In earnest tones outroll 
That brave resolve of old, 
When our fathers, true and bold, 

Swore fealty to the flag, 
Which never once grew cold. 

The flag, the flag, bends low ! 
For whirlwinds round it blow, 
And with chaotic night 
Seem veiling it from sight ; 
So let us every one, 
While yet the winds rage on, 
Cling round the straining mast, 
And hold the banner fast, 

Till stormy Treason's rage 
Be safely overpast. 

Detroit, October, 1864. 



THE ORIOLE. 

BIRTHDAY VERSES. 
A GOLDEN-FEATHERED Songster sits 

Among the maple's verdant leaves, 
While down a shining feather flits, 
And then another falling, hits 

The field-mouse sporting mid the sheaves. 

But what cares he for all this loss 

Of brilliant plumage from his wings ? 

To him they seem but feathered dross, 

And as upon the air they toss, 

He flashes through the boughs and sings. 



The Floating Eagle. 67 

And why not I, as drop the years 

From out my mortal life below, 
Put by all doubts and chilling fears, 
Lift up a song above the tears, 

And, like the oriole, let them go ? 



THE FLOATING EAGLE 

AS OBSERVED OVER THE WATERS OF LAKE ST. CLAIRE. 

High in the upper air, on waveless wing, 

The solitary eagle specks the sky ; 
While far below, where surging waters flow, 

The white-sailed ships and roaring steamers ply. 

What is the earth to him, or busy sea ; 

And what their pride, their battles, or their fame ? 
The standards that his carved image wear 

Can win no victories he cares to claim. 

The calm disdain of his imperial eye 
Falls on the vanities of things below, — 

As men upon the creeping things of earth 
The careless glance of unconcern bestow. 

Oh, would that I thus eagle-winged might rise, 
And move serene along the peaceful heaven ; 

And like to yon lone traveller of the skies, 
Float heedless of a world all passion-riven, — 

Float soaringly, through ether's depths of blue, 
Upward and onward to the star-lit dome, 

Till, breaking through the clouds of amber hue, 
My weary wings should rest, folded, at home ! 



68 Home Lyrics. 



THE PLAINT OF THE SEA. 

A SONG. 

The sea, the sea. the subbing sea ; 
What says its choral litany? 
What message from the far unknown 
Comes hidden in its plaintive moan? 

Hie mournful wail o( fleets o'erthrown, 

The sighs of generations gone. — 
These, only these the soul can hear. 
As seaward turns the mortal ear. 

Yet voiceful tones they seem to speak, 
As far their echoes roll and break ; 
And these the dirge-like words they knell, 
I .ike notes from distant spirit bell : 

"The nations come, the nations go, 
Across our wild waves' ebb and tlow ; 
But happy they who know the way 
That leads them to the better day. 

"The nights are dark, the waters cold, 
And fogs enwrap the headlands bold; 
Thrice happy they who find their way 
To harbors of the better day." 

The sea, the sea. the sobbing sea ! 
And this its ever-plaintive plea : 
" All happy they who drop away 
Far, far into the better day." 

September, 1868. 



Stabat Mater. — Philopena. 69 



STABAT MATER. 

" Quis esl homo qui non fleret 
( 'liristi matrem si ruderet 
In tanto supplicio ? 

" Quis non potesl contristari 
Piam matrem contemplari 
I lolentem cum filio." 

( Free translation at .1 < oncei 1.) 

Where is the man who, when he sees 
( Ihrist's mother on her bended knees, 

Weeps nol to hear her tender prayer 
In silver tones along the air ; 

Whose soul with sorrow is not filled, 

Whose heart with sadness is not chilled, 

As bows thai mother 'neath the rod, 
Weeping with the Son of God? 



IMIILOI'KNA. 

Yks, "philopena" is the word, 
lis wealth I would not. miss ; 

But IroiiMe not yourself for gifts, 
Just pay me in a kiss. 

( Mi heretofore I Ve asked the boon, 
In rhyming numbers light, 

But now I ask, as you perceive, 

With "color" of "a right." 



JO Home Lyrics. 

This phrase- it is a legal one — 
Enforcing suitor's clue, 

And now, my lady fair, I ask 
This legal right from you. 

So let me have the precious gift, 
Without ado or strife, 

And bid me not wait for it long 
As Jacob for his wife. 

If I have " right," you can't refuse ; 

Then bless me with the prize, 
And in the rapture let me see 

Heaven shining in your eyes. 



THE TWO VENUSES: A VISION. 

THE ONE. 

In years long gone, afar in distant lands, 
Where men to art lift up adoring hands, 
I stood before a statue brightly fair, 
For all of Grecian taste and skill were there. 
The eye was charmed, but not the mortal heart, 
By this, the crowning triumph of all art. 
'Twas Venus bending modestly and low, 
But passionless and cold, in limbs of snow; 
For not the wave gave this fair statue birth, 
But blocks of marble quarried from the earth, — 
The form surpassing fair, naught else of worth. 

THE OTHER. 

Before another statue I have stood, 
Graceful and lithe as willow of the wood; 



The Little Blue Jacket. 71 

The love lit fire from dove-like eyes soft speaks, 
The warm blood pulses through the glowing checks ; 
(Had smiles like those of sunlit waters play, 
And keep all shadows and all tears away. 
"This is no marble form," my heart exclaims; 
For through my soul I feel the Love Queen's (lames. 
I look ! lo, heaven and earthly beauty meet! 
'Tis Venus clothed in flesh that now I greet, 
Then sink a helpless victim at her feet. 



HIE LITTLE BLUE JACKET. 

I long, oh, how I long for the sight 

Of that little blue jacket 
That buttons so tight, 

And which makes such a racket 
Beneath my own vest 
Whenever it comes into view. 
For my heart, all afright, 

Strives to flutter and rest 
On the bosom it hides, 
As the song-bird swift flies 

To its soft fleecy nest, — 
To hold it is all I can do. 

And that little blue jacket, 

As others may see, 
Is as modest and quiet 

As a shell by the sea ; 
But, alas ! what a storm and a riot 

It somehow awakens in me, 
When I think underneath 
What stores of love's dynamite 

There hidden must be ! 



72 Home Lyrics. 

But I 'd risk the explosion, 
And defy the erosion 

Of all that I am or hope ever to be, 
If I only might dare 
To lay my head there 
On that little blue jacket 
That plays such a racket, 
Such a furious racket, 

With a simple-souled fellow like me, 



THE COVENANTERS AND THE LARKS. 1 

In dark old days, when Scotland's sod 
With martyr blood was richly sown, 

And men, because they worshipped God, 
To death or dungeon-cell were thrown, 

God's children oft, in moorland dale, 
Were wont to greet the Sabbath morn ; 

And like spring thunders through the vale, 
The chorus of their hymns was borne. 

1 I once heard a Scotchman say that in the early days, when the 
Covenanters were driven by the persecutions of Claverhouse and his 
bloody troopers into the caves and dells of Scotland, as they assembled 
for worship in the early hours of Sabbath morning, the larks, attracted 
by their loud and spirited singing, would gather themselves in large 
numbers above the convocation, and add their own sweet music to the 
rougher strains of the worshippers beneath. When the "lift "was 
clear, and the pursuing dragoons could get a fair view, they were ac- 
customed to look out for these flocks as they specked the sky, and by 
rapidly following them down, were too often successful in surprising 
the Covenanters at their worship. Not having seen this incident 
recorded in history, these lines were written by way of commemo- 
rating the fact. 



The Covenanters and the Larks. 73 

The booted troopers scoured the moor, 

To find their hidden altar-stone, 
And loose their hounds, whose bay and roar 

Along the heathery hills were blown. 

With march, and tramp, and gallop hard, 
They searched each cave and lonely dell ; 

For neither sword nor high reward 
Could force one loyal tongue to tell. 

Yet one strange sign they often had, 

On Sabbath morn when skies were clear, 

And Nature, all in beauty clad, 
Bade every heart dismiss its fear : 

" Look forth, my men," the trooper cries, 

" And scan afar the morning air ; 
For where the clustering larks arise, 

There are they grouped for song and prayer." 

And so it was, that while they sung, 

The larks from all the region round 
Came like a cloud, and overhung 

The altar of their holy ground. 

And as their voices rose in song, 

These winged warblers caught the strain, 

Bore it o'er highest hills along, 

Then tossed it towards the heavenly plain. 

Sweet was the music of that hour, 

For angels seemed to fill the air, 
Escorting down the Lord with power, 

That he his children's joy might share. 



74 Home Lyrics. 

But while they thus enraptured sang, 
Without the grace of warning word, 

Loud the rough leader's orders rang : 

" Hew down these traitors with the sword." 



And down the place of prayer they dashed ; 

What mattered it though mothers wept. 
As right and left the sabres Hashed, 

And lo ! in death fresh martyrs slept. 



"Spare, Lord, the green, and take the ripe," 1 
The preacher prays, — his latest words ; 

And ere their blades the troopers wipe, 
His spirit sang above the birds. 

And so, though still the laverock sings 
And warbles forth his tuneful lay, 

And though with joy the welkin rings, 
The aged sires will often say, — 



" Ay, bonnie, blithesome birds are ye, 
Yet still I canna' help but greet, 

For oh, in darksome days gone by, 
Cod's chosen ones ye ill did treat." 



1 These will be recognized as the last words of Richard Cameron 
the preacher, who fell fighting in a surprise, such as is here described, 
led by Bruce of Earlshall, in the year 16S0, at Ayrsmoss. 



Sabbath Sunset-Musings. 75 



SABBATH SUNSET-MUSINGS. 

The purple glories of the sinking sun 
Still linger on the brow of coming eve ; 
The waves sob softly, as do hearts that grieve, 

And day, departing day, is wellnigh done. 

And high in heaven the silver lamp of night 

Contends with golden clouds for queenly sway ; 
While far above, with soft and trembling ray, 

The stars drop down from God their mystic light. 

The low-voiced birds, now weary with their flight, 
Send forth their evening song of grateful praise, 
And Life, with Nature, softly kneels and lays 

Her tired head upon the lap of Night. 

And why may I not calm my heart to rest, 
And bid its stormy passions drop to sleep? 
As surly waves to rocky caverns creep. 

When God speaks " Peace " along the ocean's breast. 

Why do dark cravings still infest my soul, 

To tempt and hurl me toward the paths of sin? 
Oh, why, why have I not this rest within, 

Which now holds Nature in serene control ? 

Oh, faithful Nature, as the years decline, 

My heart goes forth in stronger love for thee ; 
Come then, and solve this hidden mystery, 

And lift me higher toward the peace divine. 



76 Home Lyrics. 

Help me to free this wild and stormy heart 

From these fierce passion-thoughts that taint the soul ; 
Aid conquered Reason to its full control, 

Say to my Evil Spirit, " Hence, depart ! " 



But Nature's silence seems more silent still. 

I hear no voice nor sound, from shore or sea ; 

And mid the pleadings of my litany 
Passion still rages for its wayward will. 

But far beyond calm Nature's wide domain 
There falls a voice from out the quiet sky. 
"O Soul, if thou wouldst win thy liberty, 

Seek unto Me ! Nature alone is vain." 

To thee I come, O Helper of the weak. 

Lift up my soul and make it strong in thee ! 

Thou who art greater than the land or sea. 
Thee, only thee, will I hereafter seek. 

Come down, and by thy Spirit long abide 

Within this wayward heart, — poor home for thee ; 
But give me grace to walk in purity, 

And ever keep me close, close by thy side. 

My soul is naught to men, but unto thee 

Worth more than worlds, or shining stars of light ; 
For thou canst hear it in its upward Might, 

And give it life and peace and royalty. 

The day is near when I shall lay me down. 
And sleep within the dull, unfeeling earth ; 
But well I know thou hast a second birth 

To give, and with it Christ's unfading crown. 



A Time of Clouds. yy 

Then shield me, Lord, In every trying hour, 
Forgive and blot out all the wretched past ; 
Give strength and faith and triumph to the last, 

And thine shall be the glory, thine the power. 

• *•••.. 

Lo ! now the clouds are gone, the waves at rest ; 
All Nature sleeps in one wide brooding peace, 
And this torn heart has won a sweet release. 

One stronger far than Reason rules my breast ; 

The Comforter has come, — its kingly guest. 



A TIME OF CLOUDS. 

Clouds often fly 

Along our sky, 
And shadow us with gloom ; 

We bend the head, 

As one forth led 
To meet the day of doom. 

But far above 

The clouds that rove, 
Shines sunlight born of heaven ; 

And some day soon, 

By sunny noon, 
These clouds will all be riven. 

So bravely hope, 

And bravely grope, 
Though thick the darkness lay; 

'Twill not be long 

Before thy song 
Shall greet the King of Day. 



78 Home Lyrics. 



THE ANGELUS. 

Hark ! 
T is the Angelas domini. 
Men, women, and children, be still, 
And lift your Ave Maria 
From city anil valley and hill ; 
While the bells float high through the air 
Earth's incense of music and prayer, 
Angelus domini, 

Angelus domini ! 



THOUGHTS WHILE REGARDING THE COMET 

OF 1874. 

In hush of evening's silent summer hour, 
Beside my humble home on earth I stand 
And gaze far, far within the world of stars, 
Up where that mystic meteor of the night, 
In all Pavonian splendors of the sky, 
Flies on its deep, unfathomable way, 
Millions of miles in its own flaming light, 
Billions on billions in its depths away. 

Trembling I turn and look upon my love, 
And deep within her flashing star-born eyes 
I see a light more tender and more bright 
Than all yon golden train that floats above ; 
For there I see the pearl of human love, 
That lives and shines in its eternity, 
When all the shining stars shall cease to be. 



TJic Lunar Eclipse. 79 

THE LUNAR ECLIPSE 

AT MIDNIGHT OF OCT. 24-25, 1 8 74. 

The great bell tolls the midnight hour, 

And all the silent city sleeps ; 
The moon, arrayed in queenly power, 

Through the blue heavens in beauty creeps. 

No cloud or mist from earth or sky 
Stains the pure ether's vaulted steep, 

Save one or two white whiffs, that fly 
Far down beneath the starry deep. 

Ah ! what so fair as Luna's face, 

Who sheds such smiles on earth below? 

Or what so lovely as the grace 

That marks her pathway soft and slow? 

But lo ! a darkness veils her face, 

And, spreading, curtains her from view ; 

What hand cloth thus her light efface ? 
Why bids she thus our world adieu ? 

And clouds now rising from the west 
Make doubly dark the mystic gloom, 

As sadly disappears her crest, 
Absorbed within a dusky tomb. 

O Luna ! does our sad earth's sin 

Fling its dark shadow up so far, 
That thou must e'en retreat within 

The depths of Heaven's most distant star? 



So Home Lyrics, 

Or dost thou only veil thy light, 
And clothe thyself with midnight cloud. 

To show us how a heaven that's bright 
May suddenly its glory shroud, 

And hold our souls in sore suspense. 
Till faith shall in the heart arise, 

Confirming our hail confidence 

That light still shines above the skies? 

Ah yes, 't is so ; tor even now 

We see once more thy rising ray: 

The cloud rolls off thy silver brow, 
And all is bright as dawning d.\\. 

Again thou art the queen of night. 

And sheddesl smiles upon the earth ; 
Again we bask within thy light. 

And dream o( man's immortal birth, 

Wond'ring what day the soul shall rise, 
And, living tar on winged feet. 

Press in beyond the upper skies. 
And find the mighty God's retreat. 



THE FLAC. 

Comk, (lag of beauty, and o'erspread 
Thy folds protective o'er my head ! 

bet no man dare by word or deed 
To touch my liberty or creed. 

Oh, when shall thv rare gifts he known 
By all the world from -one to /.one ! 



Aii Autumn Meditation. — Beauty. Si 



AN AUTUMN MEDITATION. 

I jir, lilt the curtain, mighty God ! 

I >rop from the pearly gate its bars. 

( )h, let us I' '"I. beyi mil the itars, 
And trace the path the saints ha\ e trod ! 

'Hie world grows weary i<> i mi ej i i, 

Anil :.i ill re weary to oui hearts ; 

The tricks of life, its hollow arts, 

All turn us toward the silent k ii .. 

As when we see al i mer's i lose 

The helple i lilii i weather stained, 
Ana Nature's beauties all profaned 

r.y rainy autumn's sad repose, 

We si^h in sympathy with earth, 

Who sees so ofl lie] gloi ie i fade, 
And yearn to have her fre ;h ai rayed 

In beauty oJ some in itanl birth ; 

So, soaring from this smitten sod, 

Fruitful, and rough with toil and care, 
( )ur hearts will sometimes rise in prayer , 

Lift, lilt the curtain, mighty God ! 



-«o« 



BEAUTY. 

Fair Beauty's face, in native loveline is, 
To me appears a visitant from heaven, 

As though some angel in her sweet undre is 
1 1. ill floated down, al golden houi ol even, 

To show what beauty is in love', brighl star, 
Where all supremesl lovely beings an . 



82 Home Lyrics. 



THE BOILING SPRING. 

See, my maiden, see yon fountain, 

Leaping ever to the sun, 
Fresh, exhaustless, — for the mountain 

Feeds the streams which thence outrun ; 

And their flow will ne'er be done. 

So, my maiden, give me kisses ; 

For my soul, by Fate's decree, 
Finds just such a fount of blisses 

In the lips Heaven gave to thee, 

Nor can they exhausted be. 



TRUTH'S ALTAR. 

PRAYER. 

"Where is Truth's altar," cries the soul, 
" And where the heaven-lit holy flame 

O'er sacrifice, whose clouds uproll, 
And endless life and peace proclaim ? 

Guide me, ye angels of the sky, 

And hush the hungry spirit's cry, 

So I may worship, e'er I die ! " 

RESPONSE. 

Spoke from the viewless air a voice : 
" The rock-rent tomb of Christ, thou soul ! 
That, and that only, is the goal 
Where earth-born spirits may rejoice ; 
For he hath said, ere throned on high, 
' The way, the truth, the life, am I ; 
And I and mine shall never die.' " 



The Dead and the New Year. 83 



THE DEAD AND THE NEW YEAR. 

With solemn stroke and slow, 
The great clock strikes the blow 
That seals the closing year. 

And while the hollow sound 
Sweeps all the city round, 

Falls many a sigh and tear, — 

Tears for some precious dead, 
Sighs o'er some treasure fled, 

Both from the breaking heart. 

" Oh, thou relentless year ! 
To what far distant sphere 

Dost thou from earth depart?" 

I spake, and thought to trace 
The flying year's wild race 
By modern lore or art. 

The dead year answered not, 
And backward fell my thought, 
To pierce me like a dart. 

But at my side I see 
The young year's majesty, 

Flushed with the morning's dawn. 

"Tell me, thou year," I cry, 
" How dost thou prophesy ? 

What lot for me hast drawn?" 

To my low cry he said : 
" Lift up thy drooping head, 
Nor let wild fear dismay. 



84 Home Lyrics. 

" For while 1 may not tell 

\\ hat in nn months may dwell, 

This I may knulh say, — 

" 1 towe'er thy life may run, 
With prizes lost or won. 

Peace give 1 thee to daj 

Then from the far off sky 
Fell forth some angel's ci j . 
In fading Christmas lay, — 

" Glor) to the King new-born, 
Glorj to the New year's morn, 
Peace to the world to-daj ' " 

•• l'o day, but how to morrov ? 

I las thai its cup of sorrow ' " 
But all the year would saw 

Lifting his young wings to soar: 
" 1 can tell no more, no more, — 
Peace be to thee co-da) ! " 



A SABBATH ORISON. 

GOD iif the throne above the Stars, 

And source of all far-flowing light, 

\\ hose hand lets down morn's silver bars. 
Ami scatters all the shades of night, — 
M\ heart leaps up with joy CO know 

That, with a Father's lo> ing care, 
Thine e\ e is o\ er all below, 
Thine ear the intervening air. 



Birthday Lines, 85 

So, then, to thee m\ prayer must rise, 
Well convoyed l>\ those angel bands, 

Thine own swift heralds through the skies 
From farthest planetary lands ; 

\ihl this the prayer, now upward down, — 
" 1 Kip iik v to love thee first ; and then, 

With heart .is large as Jesus' own. 

To love and serve my fellow-men. 
For lus sake, 

Grant it. Lord, 

Amen." 



BIRTHDAY LINES. 
" Puer fluem Euterpe amat, al> omnibus amatui 

Bright boy, of Saxon locks and deep blue eyes, 
Chance somehow gave thee birth in foreign lands ; 
But with " the Stais and Stripes" as swaddling hands. 

Thy home was fixed where that proud banner flies. 

Yel thy stray coming wrought in thee no wrong ; 

For Music, constant ever at thy side, 

Pouring her hai monies in choral tide, 
Gave thee the German's own soul love of song. 

And as thy youth to Stronger manhood dips, 
I'hv soul shall rise on fuller pinioned wing, 
And holier melodies wilt frame and sin:;. 

Till listening angels stoop and kiss thy lips. 
Then take my benison on this glad day, 

For life and health and happy heartedncss. 
And years of loyal Mu sii 's sweet caress. 

When he who blesses thee has passed away. 



So Home Lyrics. 

EASTER LAY. 
He i> not here, Eor he is risen. — Matt, xxviii. 6. 

1 lr is not here, — no, no. not here ; 

Earth's burial-vault could not detain 
The God who framed her rocky sphere. 

Though on her soil that God was slain. 
Ami lo, the angels sweetly sing; 

List, listen to their joyful lay : 
•• The Prince ok Life has taken wing; 

Once more he sits enthroned on high. 

" No longer here among the dead, 

For death is conquered by his power, 
Ami like a trembling captive led, 

In this the Lord's triumphal hour. 
And Sin with Death lies bound in chains, 

Since Christ the Lord has burst the tomb, 
And as a living Saviour reigns, 

Far, far beyond its silent gloom." 

And so, through all earth's years to come, 
Shall spring with bud and bloom record, 

In every Christian pilgrim's home, 
The story of her risen Lord ; 

While high the two memorial mounts — 
Stern Calvary and Olivet — 

Stand as his silent witnesses, 
Till in the new auroral glow, 
His feet shall rest on Olive's brow, 
And great ImmanueTs throne be set. 



/ dare not write my Thinking, K7 



I DARE NOT WRITE MY THINKING. 

I dare not write my thinking, 
Scnnc frame to verse my prayer ; 

For, kneeling, I bul tremble 
Upon the temple's stair. 

For life comes, oh, so costly, 

When woman bows to man, 
And ( rod in mystic wonder 

Begins to weave its plan ; 

As from I [is hand the shuttle 
Flies back and forth apace, 

Working in viewless stitches 
The hidden web of lace. 

Dreaming, she sits in patience, 
The subject oi I [is power, 

With hopes and fears awaiting 

The inevitable hour. 

Ye happy, happy angels, 

Oh, be thou ever near ! 
Sing your sweet songs around her, 

Drive far each tearful fear ; 

And when the web is woven, 
The passion flower full blown, 

Oivc her to see be iide her 
New beauty like her own ; 

For ne'er below, where you an- sphered, 
Has beauty like to hers appeared. 



88 Home Lyrics. 

EASTER MORNING. 

i SS6. 

All Nature now is waking 
From winter's dreary sleep, 

And buds and blossoms breaking 
Christ's festival to keep. 

Wake too, my heart, with songs awake 
His tomb is still earth's shrine, 
Where rose and lily twine ; 

Awake, awake, with joy awake ! 
Immortal hopes ar # e thine ; 
God makes them wholly thine 
For Christ's dear sake. 



"FOR THE FASHION OF THIS WORLD 
PASSETH AWAY." 



I COR. \ 11. 31. 



This world is very beautiful. — 

Our God has made it so. — 
And oft it seems supremely hard 

To let its joys all go ; 
But some day there will come an hour 

When all its g]oi ies fade. 
And man's sad heart shall faintly cry. 

"Would 1 beneath its (lowers were laid ! 
There is no life save when life 's done, 
No joy save with the Eternal One." 



Sunrise on Block Island. — By the Sea. 89 



SUNRISE ON BLOCK ISLAND. 

Behold, his royal majesty 

Leaps blazing from the sea, 
While ocean's murmuring welcomes ring 

Around the rocky lea. 

The cloudy curtains near the wave 

Take golden glory on, 
And those thai float still higher up 

Rich purple vestures don. 

A lonely reefer's rattling rope 

Now lifts his spreading sail, 
And far, out o'er the silent sea, 

He sings his glad " All hail ! " 

So some sweet morn, when waves are calm, 

Like yonder sailor free, 
May I my prow, with glory bright, 
In God's wide-spreading love and light, 

Point towards eternity ; 
And hopeful chant the hymn that solves 

Its cloud-wrapt mystery. 



BY Till: SEA. 

I pick a strand of ocean's grass, 

Thrown out upon the beach ; 
I barely grasp it with my hand, 

As through the wave I reach : 
And this I think, that as the sea 

Its life could nowise drown, 
So years can never drown our love 

For those we call our own. 



90 Home Lyrics. 



THE SPARROW'S FALL. 



From off my ice-clad window-sill 
I saw a shivering sparrow fall, 

And looking down, behold, he lay- 
Lifeless against the basement wall. 



',-1' 



One eye from out eternity — 

His, the Great Ruler of the World — 
Beheld that sparrow, we are told, 

As down to crumbling dust 'twas hurled. 



'6 



So when from off life's threshold I 
Silent in death's deep darkness fall, 

The eye divine, if no one's else, 
Will note my empty chair and hall. 

Yet I, unlike the fallen bird, 

Whose sprightly wing no more shall rise, 
On wide-spread pinions of the soul 

Shall find new life beyond the skies. 



BIRTHDAY LINES 

TO A THREE-YEAR-OLD BOY, 1 8 75. 

Thou little child, with dark brown eyes, 

What thinkest thou of life at three years old ? 

So lately art thou from the skies, 

The angels scarce from thee have loosed their hold. 

But thou art here, and through the earth 

Thy feet, like ours, must walk the rough world's ways ; 
And though in heaven thou hadst thy birth, 

Yet here with mortals must thou spend thy days. 



The Rose and the Master. 91 

What lies before thee, who can tell ? 

The future is not ours, but born of Heaven ; 
Still we can pray that all with thee go well, 

And for each day due strength to thee be given. 

But this one precept here we give ; 

T will lead thee safely all life's journey through, 
If thou by it wilt only live : 

To God, thy mother, and thyself be true. 



THE ROSE AND THE MASTER. 

BIRTHDAY STANZAS, AUG. 20, 1 888. 

A lovely red rose looked up in my face, 

With all of its heaven-born beauty and grace, 

And said unto me, as I passed on my way, 

" Good master, as this is your own natal day, 

For you I have bloomed thus late in the year, 

And tender you now my fragrance and cheer." 

" Sweet rose, thou art kind to one of my years, 

Who has had his full share of life's pleasures and tears. 

Go back to the spring-time, for that thou wast made, 

And not for the autumn of rain-cloud and shade. 

Thy beauty the brow of youth should adorn, 

And not that of age, well wearied and worn. 

I '11 kiss thee, however, for thy kind intent, 

And take from thy greeting full all that is meant." 

But alas for the rose ! as my lips o'er it bent, 

Its leaves fell apart, and a sigh seemed to sound, 

As they all in a shower fell down to the ground. 



92 Home Lyrics. 



THE DOVES. 

Two milk-white doves my lady kept 
Close-caged within her breast ; 

The one she called " My Beauty," 
The other one, " My Rest." 

It seems these birds one day in flight 

Had lighted there for rest, 
And found the spot so sweet and fair 

That there they built their nest. 

Nor would the lady let them go, 
But ribboned them in blue, 

Then curtained them within her robes 
From every mortal view. 

And o'er them in her lonely hours 
She bowed her graceful head, 

And with her kisses sweetly fresh 
The lovely birds she fed. 

One eve when heats were ranging hi eh. 

My lady's robe was low, 
I chanced to see the petted pair, 

Like two soft moulds of snow. 

And now whene'er my spirit thirsts, 

I bow at that fair breast ; 
For there I know dwells " Beauty," 

And there I know is " Rest." 



Prologue. 93 



PROLOGUE 

AT A BURNS FESTIVAL. 

Onward, still onward, rolls the world, 
As when through space primeval hurled ; 
The deep dark night, the brilliant day, 
The lightning's flash, the sunbeam's play, 
Alternate mark its changeful way. 
And men walk out their term of years, 
Arrayed in robes shed from the spheres, — 
Robes of bright sunshine gemmed with tears, — 
Till earth throws wide her door of rest, 
Takes back the children to her breast, 
And points the way to worlds more blest. 

So here, in this wild world below, 
We see the nations come and go, 
Like ocean tide in ebb and flow : 
Empires arise and disappear, 
Kings lie unwept on gilded bier ; 

Great deeds are done, 

Great victories won ; 
Heroes spring up, then fade away, 
As fades the cloud of summer day ; — 
And only in vast gaps of time 
The bells of fame, in golden chime, 
Ringing around earth's silent sky, 
Peal forth some mortal's name, not born to die. 

Hut turn, and look ! 
Look on that land beyond the sea, 
Where fogs and mist drape loch and lea, 



94 Home Lyrics. 

Hug sluggishly the mountain's base, 

And hide till noon his kingly face ; 

Blanket afar each hill and plain, 

With moisture tearful as the rain, 

As though some secret there they kept, 

O'er which her ancient clans had wept 

In gloomy hall or cabin flat, 

As round the ingleside they sat. 

Yet still for a' that, and a' that, 

Her men are men for a' that, 

And, like her own wild stormy sea, 

Though God-restrained, are grandly free ; 

And to Him only, bow the knee. 

Her maidens, like her meadows, smile, 
As down the burn they sing the while, 
Or court the hedges, white with bloom, 
Whence floats the hawthorn's sweet perfume 
O'er tranquil lakes which, from their shade, 
Echo the blackbird's serenade ; 
As some warm sunburst now and then 
Dispels the shadows of the glen, 
And, smiling o'er these haunts of men, 
Clothes lake and hill and stony hut, 
And each wild pass by Nature cut, 
With jewelled mantle of its own, — 
Purple and gold, more lavish strewn 
Than all e'er spread on royal throne. 

In yon fair land a grave finds room 
Amid the heather's purple bloom, 
Where living men, as we to-night, 
Uncovered stand in holy light, 
Which from the stars falls sweetly down 
Above the dust they come to crown. 



Prologue. 95 

His name you know, — 
For his was one of those immortal names 
The whole world loves, the wide world claims. 

Look back upon that land, and see 

The Poet- Ploughman on the lea : 

In simple garb, by toil well-worn, 

His seed-bag o'er his shoulder borne ; 

Behold, he goeth forth to sow, 

To scatter seed the broad world through. 

He makes no boast of ancestry, 

Nor courts the voice of flattery, 

From lordly men of high degree, — 

For them he cares not "ane baubee." 

His eye on fire, with look intent, 

His soul on some high purpose bent ; 

How grand his stride, how proud his mien, — 

A king of men as e'er was seen. 

But hark ! he sings as on he moves, 
And all the larks from sky and groves 
Join their glad voices to his own, 
And flood the spheres, from zone to zone, 
With music rare ; whose echoes still 
Float through the world on breeze and rill, 
And all her hills and valleys fill. 

What seed is that falls from his hands ? 
What power that, his smile commands ? 
No earth-born grain he scatters now, 
For rustic rake or farmer's plough ; 
But floral thoughts, all heaven-born, — 
Plucked from fair robes by angels worn, — 
He flings down on the hearts of men, 
As God sows flowers through hill and glen ; 



■ k> Home 1 i'.'. f, 

Ami soon up, up they spi ing and blow, 

And \ >m c I >r .l< >\\ 

To sweetesl words man's heart can know. 

\iul maidens j el in \ oung life's flush 
I [ere leai n to glow w ith love's firsl blush, 
v. .ill life's joj s and all its woes — 
I ,ike summei ' • firsl and latesl rose — 
Si.n i forth to life, then fade awaj . 
v. love and life imd sure dct aj 
I n dawn ol the etei nal da) . 
And then, by light oi e\ ening star, 
To Mai y in hea> en, so tieai . s< i far, 
Some herald flowei will turn the while. 
And upward beat hei li »\ ei 's smile, 
And (Midi and heaven thu i re< on< ile. 



i in c gai I. mi Is bloom to deck the board, 

\\ here song and jest then joj s afford, 

And men forgel the wi >es of life, 

rts galling < hain i, its bittei sti ife, 

\ i lown they sit in Nm hesome glee, 

To sip " a drap oi barlej bi ee ; " 

And though the moon makes bright her horn. 

To wile them hame in plight foi lorn, 

They mind her not, in lifl sae hie, 

But coolly bid her " bide o w ee." 

Ah me ! what men ha\ e made default, 

Since Willie brewed hi • pe< l< o' maul ! 

For still we cannot help bu1 feel 

Thai many .1 Rob and Allan steal, 

In this <"ii late and bettei day, 

To quiel hours in this same way ; 

But through their drowsy w its there fall 

Those bettei strains, ih.n hea\ enward call, 



/ .•■■///. 

From "lit the " < totter 1 1 Saturday Night," 
To guide ill' ii sti [j • toward . highei light. 
And <»ii they heai thai solemn prayi i 
I hen aged Hire i were wi »nl i" bear, 
in iii' s remote anil purei yearn, 
To ( ioi l . high throne fi n tin m and theirs. 

i is thus the sowei sows his sei d, 
i .1- ii grain inspiring m il ile deed. 
I "ii oling broken heai 1 1 thai bli ed, 
And filling cvei y lam I with joy 
( hanging the sire to merry I toy, 
Inspiring ill with fi i< nd ihip's wine 
in < horal song ol " Auld I ,ang ! 1\ ne ; " 
'l he hai vesl i ipi ning on, while time 
Shall roll its sun i and clouds shall i limb 
And < rown the mountain tops iutalim& 

Then, as the < ui tain lifts to night, 
And brings old si i m i again to light, 
Lei one and all thanl God ani 
Foi this greal Poel hcarl so tnu 
And high abi >vc < arth's honor* 'I ui ns 
l [ang all oui bi ighti ;l wn aths and ferns 
Aionnil the tomb ol \' > >w u'j Bun 



97 



LIGHT. 



I .mi tin Ilgbl <A ii.' woi Id |'. ii ■ in i ■ 
in ii./ llghi ihall vi ■ ■ lighl i' i •; 

I .i'.mi , light, ( > Lord, lei down the lighl 
That dwell i beyond the Bun ' 

The light ol life, the lighl oi love, 
Beams li'im the l hrec m ( >\><-. 



<>S Home Lyrics. 

As tlay unveils the mountain's steep, 

Ami far the darkness rolls, 
So drive these shadows, dense and deep, 

'That cloud our trembling souls. 

For Thou Thou art the world's great light 

Oh, let thy glory shine, 
That every lowly waiting heart 

May glow with light divine ; 

That by its rays we may be led 
I >OWn all life's toilsome w.i\ , 

Nor feel the darkness as we spread 
Our wings to lly away. 



LINKS 



WRITTEN ON BEHOLDING THE PHENOMENON OK t 1 1 1 moon 
ANO THE PLANET VENUS silixiv: \i noon on wi i>\i span, 
JULY l6, 1849. 

Tin: fear-struek city lifts her anxious eye, 

him with the tears dark Pestilence awakes. 
And far up in the mid day's a/.ure sky', 

l.o, Venus' face in veiled beauty breaks ! 

While at her side floats Luna, faint and pale, 
As on the deep some solitary sail. 

lint men appalled send forth a fearful cry, — 
"The curse, the eurse upon us now must fall ! " l 

Nor can they once the blissful truth descry, 
\nd see but coming merey in it all ; 

The poisoned air our c,m\ has rolled away, 
Ami now his stars shed blessings at noonday. 

1 The cholera was then prevailing in the cirj 



The Song of Poverty. 99 



THE SONG OF POVERTY. 

Man is Cod's image ; but a poor man is 
Christ's stamp to boot : both images regard ; 
Cod reckons lor him, counts the favor His. 

IlERliERT. 

Oh, mid the dust and ashes of my life, — 
These ragged emblems of a mournful lot, — 

How sweet to feel that on Jehovah's throne 
The poor man's sorrows never are forgot ! 

What though my brow streams down with burning swc.it, 
And wasting labor bows my weary frame ! 

One reigneth there, whose sweat was Stained with blood, 
And o'er whose soul was pound a tide of flame. 

Now high enthroned, his eye is on the poor. 
And tender sympathies his bosom swell, 

Where'er he sees the burden pressing hard, 

Or swarming woes surround the (rumbling cell. 

My lonely hovel in this tearful vale 

Is holier far than palaces of kings ; 
For with the lowly heart he loves to dwell, 

And hence the fountain of his comfort springs. 

Then, toiling brethren, seize with all its power 
This soul-refreshing, yet transporting thought: 

That never while the eternal throne endures, 
The poor man's sorrows once can be forgot. 



IOO Home Lyrics. 



"TEARS ARE FLOWING." 

WRITTEN DURING THE PREVALENCE OF CHOLERA IN THE 
SUMMER OF 1849. 

Tears are flowing, tears arc flowing; 

And our hearts, how sad they beat ! 
Friends and loved ones, none are knowing 

When their eyes again may meet; 
Death is sweeping through the air; 
Lo ! his wing o'erspreads us here. 

Tears are flowing, tears are flowing; 
( Had we hail the soothing tide. 

Death is living; he is mowing 

Valued friends on every side; 
And relief, amid our fears, 
Now is only found in tears. 

Tears are flowing, tears are flowing; 

'T is in vain to stay the stream. 
We tomorrow may he going 

Where the sun shall cease to beam ; 
All seem wending, sad and slow, 
To the darksome shades below. 



Tears are flowing, tears are flowing ; 

Every heart is wrapped in gloom. 
Friendly hands will soon be sowing 

Verdure o'er our dusty tomb, 
bet us weep then, while we may ; 
bite may (lose with evening's ray. 



Streams from a Troubled Fountain. \o\ 



STREAMS FROM A TROUBLED FOUNTAIN. 

Therefore I hated life; because the work thai is wrought undei 
thi mi is grievous unto me : for all is vanity and vexation of spirit. — 

I.' i i.. ii. 17. 

Our life, — oh, vvlial a mockery, 

Its promises how vain ; 
Ami pleasure's < up, when lifted up, 

I low soon hurled down again ! 

The frenzied gra ;p may raise it high, 

To ease an aching mind ; 
But should the li]» the goblet sip, 

What stings are left behind ! 

Calm glides yon river's tranquil stream, 

VVhrrc moonbeams softly play; 
Some silent pla< e beneath its fat e 

Might w;i ,h .ill woes away. 

And yonder willow swaying low 

( )n zephyr's heaving breast, 
Jf o'er the grave its boughs might wave, 

How sweet 'twonM whi iper " Rest" ! 

E'en mid the darkne is of yon < loud 
All seems imbued m\ h peat e ; 

In its lone < ell the soul might dwell, 
And never crave r< lea ;e. 



102 Home Lyrics. 

The world, — 'tis but a naked rock. 

As hard as it is cold ; 
Its (lowers that blow soon erase to gTOWj 

And turn, like man, to mould. 

There with relentless scythe speeds Time, 
On pinions red with blood ; 

We must above, if we would love. 
What rots not with the sod. 



AGAIN 1 PASS BEHIND THE CLOUD. 

Again I pass behind the cloud, 

The dusky cloud 
That rolls about the gates of Death 
Whose stem command strikes low the proud. 

And those not proud ; 
For He bids all yield up their breath, 
Whenever their appointed day 
Pawns down upon their pilgrim way. 
1 goj but through the path of gloom, 

The dreary gloom, 
1 Ml carry one dear memory, 
Since in my heart there 's always room. 

Abundant room. 
For one sweet soul to walk with me. 
So when my heart breathes its farewell, 
Accept the plaint it lain would tell. 
When doomed to wander for a while 
Afar from the beloved's smile. 



Birthday Stanzas. 103 



BIRTHDAY STANZAS. 

Wake, my heart ! list to the knell 
Now sadly booming on thine ear; 
Time strikes for thee his funeral hell, — 
Tolls for a year. 

Ah, would thai year were all alone, 

The first he snatches from my life; 
But many more his hand hath won, — 
Unequal strife ! 

And whither hath lie borne them to? 

What gloomy cave or distant shore? 
Oh, can it be these joys, so few, 
Return no more? 

They are my life, and precious all, 

With hopes and joys and sorrows deep ; 
And have they fled beyond recall? 
Where do they sleep ? 

'Tis a strange fancy, yet they seem 

A company of < hildren lost, 
Who far away send forth their scream 
On billows tost. 

Dark waves are driving where they float ; 

The noise of other worlds is there ; 
I see no sail, no buoy, no boat, 
Their forms to bear. 

Upon eternity's vast shore 

I look again and see them stand ; 
There shall 1 meel them all once more, 
That kindred band. 



[i 1 1 Home Lyrics. 



LINES 

WRITTEN ON THE LANDING OF mi PORTUGUESE EXILES FROM 
I in, m EAMER "mavi i OWER," AT DETROIT, ON OCT. 31, [849. 

I . .\ to the Western World ! 

Let her forests catch the strain, 
\11.l ovei .ill lui lull, be hurled 

The Pilgrim's song again ! 

Fasl ti> our favored shore 

The " Mayflowei " bark is bound, 
Ami .1 band ot exiles from her poui 

To consecrate the ground. 

Tears stand on < - \ ei \ cheek, 

And ilu-ii hearts are beating high ; 

But no fear is seen on those fa< es meek, 
Ami those hearts thrill joyously. 

No hostile bands they find, 

\11nol with the \\ inged steel, 
No ice-bound coasts, nor soil unkind, 

A wret< bed fate to seal , 

But a people brave and free 

Kim;; thru aim-, lound every lurast, 

And loud goes up tluar jubilee, — 
■• Clad welcome to the West. 

" What though your native isle 

l ,ies tai beyond the sea, 
And her bright blue waves no more shall smile 

t >u the exilels tearful eye ; 



/ ines on the Landing <>/ Portugiu ■,. / Hies. 

" Wli.ii ii thy < ountrj ' ■ \ im 

Bear no more fruil foj thee, 
And thy favorite rose its bi auty twines 

For thy worst enemy? 

'• ' >ui land has waters too, — 

Behold, how < leai they roll, 
W nli .1 dash as loud and a < resl a i blue 

As the waves round eithei pole. 

" < rreen \ ines adorn our hills, 
And flowers bi dec] th< ground, 

And down our vales ten thousand rills 
Send forth their gladsome sound. 

"Bui dearei than them all, 

I fere on oui mui h loved sod 
We proffer thai foi whi< h you call, — 

' Freedom to worship ( rod.' 

" No chains or dungi Ons dark 

Attend you] footsti ps now ; 
No Bpi m vim fainting flesh shall mark ; 

Vmiii ti ars shall no more flow. 

"Then wel< ome to our land, 

I he free land of the West; 
And - \, i on diy Pilgrim Band 

May God's best blessing rest ! " 



[os 



io6 Home Lyrics. 



THE HARP. 

Oh, strike that harp again, 
And bid its notes of solemn music wake 
The thousand memories that in shadowy train 

Fast from my bosom break. 

Since Israel's daughters wept, 
And hung the harp upon the willow's boughs, 
The saddest strains through all its cords have crept, 

Man's darkest thoughts to rouse. 

Majestic sorrow marks 
The stately Prophet's deep and mystic strain ; 
And e'en the Psalmist oft in tears embarks, 

To win back peace again. 

The harp is sorrow's voice, 
And quick unlocks the grief of every soul ; 
No spirit can in happy thoughts rejoice, 

Where its sad numbers roll. 

Lonely, though sweet its tone, 
Like solemn dirge o'er some unhappy love, 
Melts the sad heart whose hope of bliss has flown ; 

Man weeps, yet can't reprove. 

Then strike that harp again ! 
Although its melting numbers still must wake 
Within my heart its own peculiar pain, 

Thou 'rt pardoned, though it break. 



The First Thunders of Spring. 107 



THE FIRST THUNDERS OF SPRING. 

A thousand welcomes to thy deep-toned voice, 
Thou solemn music of the upper world ! 

Gladly I wake from sleep at midnight hour, 

To hear thy strains, as earthward they are hurled 
With mighty power. 

In thy stern voice that shakes the startled ground, 
And fills the timid maiden's heart with fear, 

I hear a strain of high prophetic sound, 
That whispers softly of the vernal year 

With beauty crowned. 

Old Winter trembles in his ice-bound cave, 
And as he grasps his sceptre, while it melts 

Beneath his bony hand, now views afar 
The bursting of his frosty bands and belts 
On every shore. 

In thee I hear the voice of singing birds, 
That soon must carol o'er the waving plain, 

The rustle of the forest's soothing breeze, 
The mild and melting drops of summer rain 
From dancing leaves. 

Down every hill resounds the dash of streams 
That onward leap to swell the noisy sea, 

And earth's ten thousand voices now arise, 
In strains of ever-rolling harmony, 

Against the skies. 



io8 Home Lyrics. 

These do I hear ; yet something more profound 
Seems muttered forth in those sublimer strains, 

But ah ! what Prophet shall unveil the sound, 
The future's measure of dark woes and pains 
Soon to abound ? 

Yet roll thy pealing notes along the sky, 

And shake all Nature with thy mighty voice ; 

I '11 crave the music, though thy shafts of flame 
Should fall and wither all my future joys, 
Nor spare my name. 



EPIGRAM 

WRITTEN IN DAYS OF BACHELORHOOD. 

In Borneo's isle (I lately read), 

The accepted lover's gift must be 
A gore-bespattered human head, 

Offered on low, submissive knee. 
Poor wight, if foreign wedded life 

Be such as that within our zone ! 
He murmurs in remorseful strife, 

Ere yet the honeymoon be gone, 
" How shall I for my victim's death atone ? 
Ye Gods ! oh, why was not that head my own ? " 



Cupid Shipwrecked. 109 



CUPID SHIPWRECKED. 

Wandering late at eventide 

By ocean's loud resounding side, 

Where the wild billows beat the shore 

With angry and incessant roar, 

Far out upon the breakers' crest, 

And fiercely by the storm opprest, 

A tiny bark I chanced to see 

Hard struggling for the mastery. 

Now high it rose against the cloud, 

Enveloped by a foamy shroud ; 

And now between the surge's swell 

Down to the lowest depths it fell. 

The exulting sea-bird's direful scream, 

The frequent lightning's vivid gleam, 

Seemed portents that no skill could save 

The sailor from a watery grave : 

But, fearless at the vessel's prow, 

Stood Cupid with his shafts and bow ; 

A gorgeous sea-shell was his boat, 

Which one scant sail had kept afloat. 

No star or helm to guide his way, 

Reckless he dashed through whirling spray ; 

Though round his lips there lurked a smile, 

That spoke of triumph all the while. 

"Oh for his sea-born mother's hand 

To bring her darling safe to land ! " 

So spake I, when a stronger blast 

Swept from the deck the sail and mast, 

And down in Neptune's caverns dark 

Sank Cupid with his foundered bark. 



i io Home Lyrics. 

I, overwhelmed with pity, stood 
Powerless to aid the little god ; 
And briny tears flowed free and fast, 
For Love had met his death at last. 
But as I mourned his hapless fate, 
A friendly wave bore him elate, 
And tossed him near me on the beach 
Beyond the angry surge's reach. 
Up sprang the urchin from the sand, 
His bow and quiver still in hand. 
Laughing, he pressed his dripping hair, 
And flung its tresses on the air ; 
Then, as he shook his wings with art, 
Quick from his quiver drew a dart : 
" My strings I fear will never dry, 
My bow is spoiled — but let me try." 
And urged with sudden, certain aim, 
Deep in my heart the arrow came ; 
Then, floating off on rosy wing, 
With mocking glee I heard him sing : 
" Old death may shut all mortal eyes, 
But sportive Cupid never dies ; 
My bow I find still serves me well, 
And, stranger, learn the truth I tell, — 
A truth thou now dost surely prove, — 
That pity is akin to love." 



Jenny. i i i 



JENNY. 

Jenny had a laughing eye, — 
Oh, how bright it glistened ! — 

And her voice was melody 
To the ear that listened. 

Jenny had dark waving hair, 

And how soft it floated 
On the evening's balmy air, 

I have often noted. 

Jenny had bright pearly teeth, 

Sharp as steel their edges, 
White as lambkins on the heath, 

Or linen on the hedges. 

Jenny had a bosom fair, 

Could you but descry it ; 
None with it could ere compare, 

And none would ever try it. 

Jenny had a bounding heart 

That streamed her cheek with beauty, 
But Jenny's heart no lover's art 

Could ever win to duty. 

Many stranded on its shoals ; 

And now the story 's written 
That Jenny, by the parlor coals, 

Last night gave me the mitten. 



1 1 2 Home Lyrics. 



AS PANTING TRAVELLERS O'ER SAHARA'S 

SANDS. 

As panting travellers o'er Sahara's sands 

Long for the fount whereat the pilgrim bands 

Bow down their lips, and humbly bless the grace 

Which thus has sanctified the lonely place ; 

So have I blessed the Framer of my life 

That mid its struggles and exhausting strife, 

He bade one fountain glitter through the gloom 

And murmur softly onward toward my tomb ; 

Then as I labored in my weary march 

And burning thoughts my tortured brain would parch, 

I to my fountain's streamlet gladly turned, 

And in its waters sweet refreshing earned — 

That fount, dear heart, is friendship firm and true, 

Such as I ever hope to find in you ; 

And should its streams by cruel hands be stayed, 

And life's lone path a desert broad be made, 

Then, like the traveller in those distant lands, 

I too must perish on life's burning sands, 

No breeze to bless, no waters cool to lave 

The sod that withers on my blasted grave. 



IMPROMPTU LINES. 

That my admiration from Satan has sprung 
I'm sure can in no way be true, 

For Satan himself could never do wrong 
By means of an angel like you. 



The Hour of Fate. \ \ 3 



THE HOUR OF FATE. 

In every life there comes an hour, 
Winged from on high with fearful power. 
Upon its trembling moments, lo ! 
The future's weal or woe 
Is strangely hung ; and as they swiftly roll, 
Eternal fate is stamped upon the soul. 

The man who upward turns his eye, 
Wearied of pleasure's fickle cry, 
Then only can escape from earth, 

And by a second birth 
Achieve a seat upon that heaven-built throne, 
Which strengthens as eternity rolls on. 

The tongue or pen, then overawed, 
That fails to send those truths abroad 
Which bring to tyranny its death, 

Though in the faintest breath 
They 're told, shall ever after strive in vain 
To free the spirit or unbind the chain. 

The tortured soul that quivering stands 
With sinking heart and trembling hands 
Upon the cliff of crime's abyss, 

Charmed by the tempter's kiss, 
Then, then must meet its triumph or defeat ; 
And heaven or hell with joy becomes replete. 

The heart that lingers then in fear. 
And dares not whisper in the ear 
Of her whose image fills his soul, 
Nor yield a full control 



1 1. 1 Home Lyrics* 

To love's strong empire, like the sounding shell 
Thenceforth but breathes its own s.ul funeral knel 

The cells of woe such erring hearts 
Thenceforth become, and with strange arts 
Time gamers there ten thousand pangs, 

That, like the viper's fangs, 
With poison deadlier than assassin's knife, 
Pollute and check the gushing fount of life. 

Protector of our race ! oh, why 
Is not some spirit from the sky 
Commissioned then to guide the soul 

Securely to its goal, 

Thai man's pour hopes thereafter may not be 

Like shattered wrecks upon a winter's sea? 



THE PAUPER CHILD. 

Behold the pale-faced pauper child, 
In garments soiled and worn. 

Peeping from OUt the work house door. 

With countenance lorlorn. 

she hears the school-boy's merry shout 
Ring down the busy street, 

Sees satchelled girls go laughing by 
With light and bounding feet. 

To her they seem an angel hand 

From out some heavenly sphere, 
Where happiness o'erflows each heart, 
And no c\ e sheds a tear. 



The Pauper ( hild. 

'The si hoc-] I the bi hoo] I whal can it be? 

I ler anxious hearl inquires ; 
Bui nol an an ;wer comes to quel) 

rhe spirit's young desiri i. 



"5 



The word ne'ei fell fro 



in mothei \ lips 



upon her infanl ears, 

For, ah ! a mother's tender love, 

The work house nevei < heers. 



Stern Poverty has linked hei fate 
Fasl to his dirl and straws ; 

Widi tears he fills hei daily cup, 
A i ea< li new hope withdraw 

The :,< hool with .ill its brighl reward 
To her can ne'er be known 

As, wrapl in rags and ignoran< e, 
She sits and weeps alone. 

But, spiril ( rushed, she wearies on 
Through the rough man h oi life, 

And hails the shafl thai terminates 
it', evei raging itrife. 



God give hei stri< ken soul a pla< e 
Beyond the bound . oi time, 

And be hei soul's greal tea< her, whi re 
No earthly woe i < an i limb. 



ll6 Home lyrics. 



THE LILIES. 

From off her bosom's swelling pride 

sin- plucked a sprig and gave it me ; 
It bore the valley's lily bells : 

\h me ! what is it there I see ? 
Down through my heart they shed their peal, 

In heaven born echoes soft and low, 
And from them fell a maiden's name 

Beloved in years o( long ago. 

1 looked into the donor's face, 

Fair as the lilies after rain. 
And wondered if my angel maid 

Jn this •• beloved " lived again. 



DESPONDENCY. 

Into the flame 1 cast my name. 
That I may see how soon it dies ; 
Would I might there east all my eare, 
That care and tame might both the same 

Destruction share, a leashed pair, 

Nor ever from their ashes rise ! 



Woman 9 s Tears. 1 17 



WOMAN'S TEARS. 

I n gentle woman's tears, 
I low ri< h ;i bounty I11 1 from heaven come down, 
To bless the world through Ion;; revolving years, 
Ami give to beauty powei .nl her own ! 

They fall like summer rain 
From kindly < loud upon the dusty earth ; 
Doih Mess, and leave no spo! or noxious stain, 
And both may < laim ;i pure and heavenly birth. 

They melt die stei m ;1 king ; 
If the soft tide bul lave the royal hand, 
To the doomed prisoner pardon's bliss they bring, 
And swift renew his fast expiring sand. 

They warm the grave's < old gloom, 
When poured in torrenl 1 down the loved one's face, 
As the wide gaping, dark, devouring tomb 
Snatches its vi< tim from the la il embrace. 

They are .'i living fount 
l!y every fireside si tiding forth their tide ; 
And what hold tongue will venture to recount 
The eternal fruits thai bloom along its side ? 

They fertilize the iod 
Thai rises o'er our solitary grave, 
And brightly gem those lovely works of (lod, 
The flowers that there in mournful beauty wave. 



i is Home Lyrics. 

I Ipon the toil worn feel 
• >i one who felt and knew their priceless worth, 
They fell, and [o ! with words surpassing sweet, 
Are washed away the darkest sins of earth. 

( Mi that such tears might fall 
Along tlif page thai registers lilt's sin I 
Then, though beneath the lowliesl prodigal, 
I still might hope heaven's bright reward to win. 



AN APPROACHING BIRTHDAY. 

The tide of years rolls sternly on, 

And onward rolls my bai l^. 
Now poised upon the mountain wave, 

Now plunging in the dark 

( )'er life's rough sea. 

The storm washed cliff and rocky shoals 

I ,ie round my dreary way, 
And night's wild echoes evei sound. 

In chorus through the day, 
Sad minstrels) . 

1 [igh hopes air on inv h. inner wove, 

Now streaming from the masl ; 
But darkness wraps the record now. 
While tossing on the blast, 
Its helpless toy. 



Lux in Tenebris. [19 

Tumultuous fears, a swelling throng, 

< \o surging through the soul, 
As Time in steady measure keeps 

Fast numbering up the wholi 
Of life's sweet joy. 

And ever o'er the waves I hear 

Peal from 1 [is joyless bell, 
As weary hearts go struggling down 

The melani holy knell 

I )i .'-mI , unblest. 



But One there is who rules alone 

The o< ean's stormy waste : 
Gri at God ! oh, kindly guide me through, 

And as I homeward haste 
Lead me to rest ! 



LUX IN TENEBRIS. 

'Twas Sabbath eve, and I, with pensive eye, 
Looked far, far out along the emi raid sky 
For one sweel star I surely thought was there. 



But, strange to say, of all its worlds of light, 

'I he hea /ens di ;< los< d to my di 1 p sean hing sight 

Not one brighl orb, although the night was fair. 



120 Home Lyrics. 

From that clear sky there fell a cloud of gloom 
All through my heart, as though some fateful doom 
Was spreading o'er my one bright path in life, 

Making what yet remains of future days 
Devoid of hope, devoid of joy and praise, 
And all with grief and disappointment rife. 

Then turned I to the casement where one dwells, 

With life as musical as bridal bells, 

To see if thence her light was also gone ; 

But haply, no ! there gleamed its shaded rays, 
And all my grief straightway was turned to praise. 
What cared I, then, if stars again 

Should never gem the ether zone ? 

Yon kindly light was life enough for me. 

Though darkness veiled the sky, the earth, the sea ! 



THE GRAY GOOSE-QUILL. 

Let others praise, howe'er they will, 

Their pens of shining gold. 
But give to me the gray goose-quill, 

That glorious quill of old. 

When darkness held o'er earth her reign, 

And kings bore iron rule, 
ONI Luther broke young freedom's chain, 

And the goose-quill was his tool. 



The Gray Goosc-quill. 121 

When Milton sang Ins heaven-born hymn, 

And won his laurel crown, 
The goose-quill, though his eyes were dim, 

Wrote all his numbers down. 

And Shakspeare's pictures of the race, 

Fresh to time's latest hour, 
Were wrought with his peculiar grace 

By the goose-quill's pliant power. 

The poets all, too poor to buy, 

Whenever they would sing, 
Were kindly furnished from on high 

With a quill from Clio's wing. 

Then let me sing the gray goose-quill, 

That glorious (mill of old, 
Which wields a mightier empire still 

Than sceptres framed of gold ; 

Which pours upon our restless race 

A rill from freedom's fount, 
And lifts the humblest to a place 

Where kings could never mount ; 

Which wrote for us that glorious hope 

On inspiration's page, 
And helps our hearts in faith to cope 

With the struggles of old age. 

The gray goose-quill, the quill of yore, 

Long may its power remain ; 
And may it ne'er, I now implore, 
Upon our household's happy door 

E'er write one line of pain. 



\22 Home Lyrics, 

my DOG JIM. 

A BA< 1 1 1 " i OB SONG. 

I know nothing that more moves us to tens than the hearty kind' 
rv .'i .1 dog, when something in human beings Ikis pained 01 chilled 

US. — UULWER. 

When the day lias passed away, 

Ami the hours grow dark and dim, 
Then my pen 1 drop straightway . 
\iul hoKI a talk with my dog Jim, 
My dog | im, so smooth and prim, 
I [e loves me, and I love him. 

Behold his nose in calm repose 

l fpon his legs so long and slim. 
While his bright eye turns where he knows 
His master's kindly beams on him, 
My dog J im, so gay and trim, 
1 [e loves me, and I love him. 

Bach nervous ear he tries to rear, 
Bui ah ! an early master's whim 
11. ul hewn them off, full close and clear, 
r.\ way of making him look trim, — 
M\ dog Jim, with earless brim, 
l le lo\ es me, and 1 lo\ e him. 

But now his tail vibrates the while 

From side to side with wondrous vim ; 
1 [e onlj waits the signal smile 
He knew, is sure to welcome him 

Upon my limb, — my sportive Jim, 
Mr loves me well, and I love him. 



. In Epitaph. i ■ j 

When gloom and care my thoughts ensnare, 

1 1< sees them in my eyelids swim, 
And, racing round and round my chair, 
Siii\<-, hard i" sing some < heering hymn, — • 
M v dog Jim, so slick and slim, 
I le loves me, and 1 love him. 

li still I frown, he lays him down, 

v, though he cued, my poor dog fim , 
\Vi ii his nose rests on mj g( iwn, 
I [e 's happy as the cherubim, — 
My d< ig J mi, so mi e and prim, 
I [e loves me, and I love him. 

With no good wife i<> cheer my life, 

Is it so strange I cling to him ? 
YVi though ii seem with folly rife, 
Still there it is, my lo\ e foi I im, — 
M v faithful, my kind hearted fim, 
I [e loves me well, am I I love him. 

Should death to day his master lay 

Beneath the valley's clods of clay, 
( 'lose to his grave, though i old and \>;uc, 

< )ne mourner would ,ii leasl repair ; 
loi Jim, l know, would ofl lie there, 

My poor dog Jim, my i onstanl | \\tt, 
Since he loves me, I musl love him. 



AN EPITAPH. 

A simple boon the sleepei ask i, 
Now thai life's work i i done, 
A tear, if virtues i rowned his ta iks ; 

( )l ilivion, il none. 



124 Home Lyrics. 



AN INVOCATION TO PEACE. 

From out this wrangling world of war, 
Where mortal conflicts never cease, 

What hand can ope the happy door 
That leads us to the realms of peace? 

Would I might wander far away, 
Amid her groves and cooling shade, 

Drink from her rills at close of day, 
And watch the dreamy sunlight fade ! 

Glad would 1 leave the outer world, 

And close my ear to all its noise ; 
Where banners daily are unfurled, 

And spears are ever on the poise ; 

Where battle's cry rings ever loud 
From altar, porch, and tented field, 

And hourly from the struggling crowd, 

Droops some proud plume that would not yield ; 

Where Christ's example rarely shines, 

And still more rarely shapes a life, 
Where good men weep, and faith repines, 

As round them rolls unholy strife. 

Oh, come, white-winged one, and lead 

A weary pilgrim on his way ! 
Come, heal my feet, where now they bleed, 

And guide me towards the " perfect day." 

Then shall my overburdened mind 
From all its cares win sweet release ; 

Then shall my saddened spirit find 

The door that opes the realms of peace. 



Nature and her Teachings. 125 



A YEARNING AFTER NATURE AND HER 
TEACHINGS. 

SUGGESTED BY THE STRUGGLING EFFORTS OF A MEADOW-LARK 
TO ESCAPE FROM ITS CAGE. 

Mine eyes have seen the imprisoned lark, 
Whose fettered pinions drooping hun 

Beat wildly at its cage's bars 

To gain the woods where once it sung 



Of 



Where in the tree-top's leafy shade, 
Waked by the mountain's silver rill, 

It early carolled forth its praise, 

And poured its song o'er grove and hill. 

When swinging in its sheltered nest 
Beneath the tempest's rocking blast, 

It feared not, though the thunders rolled, 
But sang whene'er their noise was past. 

Like that caged bird my weary soul 

Longs for the life that Nature yields, — 

The solemn teachings of her groves, 
The heavenly quiet of her fields ; 

The laughing brooklet's cheerful voice, 
That echoes down the mountain side ; 

The hum of insects on the air, 
The meadow's call at eventide ; 

That quiet of the sun's decline, 
Which blesses every cottage door, 

When, with the ox, man drops the yoke, 
Nor feels it till the morning hour ; 



126 Home Lyrics. 

Where midnight lamps are never lit, 
Nor city cares distract the brain, 

But quiet spreads her mantle broad, 
And peace holds undisturbed reign. 

Oh that my Heavenly Father soon 
Would grant that bird and me release ! 

Then would we flee to Nature's shade, 
And mid her teachings care would cease. 

Still from that cage there falls a truth ; 

In mercy to our race 't is given : 
That though as larks we 're prisoned here, 

We yet shall sing our song towards heaven. 



FAREWELL, MARY, FOR A SEASON. 

Farewell, Mary, for a season, 
Though that season brief may be ; 

Still the word must now be uttered : 
Farewell, Mary, then to thee. 

Farewell, till spring's softest breezes 
Sweep around your open door, 

Till the garments of old winter 
On the hills are seen no more. 

Farewell, till the maple's blossom 
Dances on the swaying bough, 

And the bluebird's joyous love-song 
Echoes all your garden through. 

Farewell, till the fragrant meadow 
Hails the bright and jocund May, 

And the lark mounts up to heaven, 
Pouring forth his bridal lay. 



The Meadow-larks. 127 

Farewell, till all Nature wakens, 

And each brake and shady grove 
Whispers with its thousand voices 

All the murmurings of love. 

Then, dear Mary, I shall join them, 

And once more upon your breast 
Sing in words of heart-rejoicing 

What each bird sings round his nest. 



THE MEADOW-LARKS. 

The meadow-larks, the meadow-larks, 

They sing a sad song to me, 
Of a maiden bright, in the sunset light, 

On an evening by the sea. 

With fair right arm uplifted high, 

She swung forth a score or more, 
And sweetly cried to me on my ride, 

As I dashed by her cottage door : 

" My meadow-larks, my meadow-larks, 
They are plump and fresh and fair ; 

With their golden breasts and their velvet crests, 
No birds can with them compare. 

" My meadow-larks, my meadow-larks, 

Good gentleman, come and buy ; 
For their morning song, as it swelled along, 

Spread echoes through all the sky." 

That voice so soft, that face so fair, 
How they woke my boyhood's pride ! 

I checked my steed in his plunging speed, 
And stood trembling at her side. 



[28 Home Lyrics. 

I bought her larks, her meadow-larks, 
But I saw not one of the score, — 

Not a golden breast, nor a velvet crest, — 
For ray eyes saw something more. 

" Your meadow-larks," I stammered forth, 

•' All (heir songs art- now your own ; 
For sweeter words 1 never heard 
Than your red lips here have sown. 

"Your meadow larks, your meadow-larks, 

All their pinions suit and lair. 
As an angel's wing you now outfling 

To bear you alar in air. 

"Stay. stav. fair maid, and sing your song, — 
A song of lite it shall he ; 

By this cottage door forevermore 

I pray you to comfort me." 

She dropped her larks, her meadowdarks, 

And away sped o'er the lea ; 
Ami 1 heard her sing as her steps took wing, 

''No heart can 1 give to thee, good sir, 
No heart can 1 give to thee ; 

For the lad o( my love 

Brought these birds from above, 
And he has the life-vow from me, good sir, 

The life long VOW from me." 

Oh, the meadowdarks. the meadow larks. 
And their songs in the morning's ray ! 

They bring to me no minstrelsy 
Save the tale of that golden day, 

That vision bright, and that maiden's flight 
Through the sunlight by the sea. 



A Sacramental Breathing. 129 



A SACRAMENTAL BREATHING. 

( )n, whal a weighl ol woe 

Was lifted from our rat e, 
When Jesus kindly Stooped SO low 

And look the sinner's plat e , 

When Satan's mad design 

Was thwarted by a love 
Which angels from their harps divine 

Rolled through the worlds above ; 

When by His mighty hind 
The gate i of hell were sealed, 

And visions of the heavenly land 
To man were full revealed ; 

When from the throne ol < rod 
The streams of life outburst, 

To < lean le afresh oui sin stained sod, 
And quench our mortal thirst. 

And when the earth wa 1 veiled 
To hide hei suffei ing I *ord, 

And sobbing oceans sadly wailed 
To hear his dying word ; 

Then when earth's wild complaints 
Would lift our thoughts above, 

And each sad pilgrim-spiril faints 
At memory of his love ; 



130 Home Lyrics. 



Oh, may our faith embrace 
The life his triumphs bring, 

And our glad hearts renewed by grace 
His praise eternal sing ! 

For thus this weight of woe 

Is lifted from our race, 
Since Jesus kindly stooped so low 

To take the sinner's place. 



LUNA. 



My brain is like a heaving sea 

Where mighty billows rove, 
Its hourly tides all ruled by thee, 

The Luna of my love. 

My spirit o'er its rolling wave 

In life's frail bark is driven ; 
Beneath, the sailor's sodless grave — - 

Above, the distant heaven. 

No chart or compass guides my way, 

On thee alone I gaze, 
And cheering words I hear thee say 

Amid the lunar blaze. 

Along that sea a brilliant path 

Those heaven-born beams have spread ; 
What rare I for the storm's wild wrath 

Or thunders overhead ? 

If thou but heavenward turn the tide 

Upon that shoreless sea, 
I soon shall climb thy silver side, 

And reign on high with thee. 



Life. 131 



LIFE. 

How strange a struggle is our life, 
This double life in which we move, — 

One born of earth and earthward bent, 
The other winged for spheres above ! 

To-day our hearts with love aspire 

Towards heaven and all its holy throng ; 

To-morrow finds us in the choir 

Of those who sing earth's passion song. 

These hearts, these human hearts of ours, - 
Ah me, how very frail they are ! 

We love aright, we love awrong, 

And more than one our secrets share. 

In dusky evening's quiet shade 
The heart goes wandering far astray ; 

Some look of love, some form of grace, 
Has set its pulses all at play. 

And common tastes and sympathy 
Have melted soul and soul in one ; 

Young love renews its early joys, 
And life seems just again begun. 

But while the sky spreads out in light, 
Love's emerald sea and golden shore, 

We see a sudden lightning-flash, 
We hear a distant thunder-roar. 



132 Home Lyrics. 

And heart and soul we find at war: 
One says, " Go, love, and happy be ; " 

The other speaks in Strong reproof, 
And bids us only error see. 

We look to heaven with tearful eyes, 
And sadly breathe a plaintive prayer: 

"God, bring us early to Thy house, 
For love is all unfettered there, 
And only there." 



A DREAM OR NOT A DREAM. 

I sat alone at eventide 

Where billows roll and toss, 

Like some poor shipwrecked mariner, 
With sense of naught but loss. 

The world seemed only emptiness, 

The clouds hid every star, 
And love and hope and happiness 

All gone, alas, how far ! 

When lo ! the angel of my life, 

From out the upper skies 
Appeared, and folding down her wings 

Looked deep within my eyes. 

And seeing through my downcast look 

Great loneliness of soul. 
She opened soft her rosy lips 

To comfort and console. 



A Dream or not a Dream. 13; 

"Why is thy soul disquieted, 

Why tears within thine eyes? 
I come to lift thy heart from grief, 
And drive away thy sighs. 

" What though that face thou worshippest, 

That shines with heaven for thee, 
Is turned aside a little while 

from passion's earnest plea. 

" Do not despair, for thou shouldst know 

'T will not thus always be : 
The maid must sometime walk alone ; 

'Tis Nature's great decree. 

" So bide your time full patiently ; 

Erelong you shall rejoice, 
For through thy loneliness shall fall 

The tones of that sweet voice ; 

" And you shall hear a plaintive call 

From out her flowery home, 
And these the gracious words shall be : 

' Beloved one, now come ! ' " 

I turned me to behold my guest, 

But, lo ! the form was gone ; 
And still I sat all pensively 

Upon the wave-washed stone. 

Yet somehow Nature seemed more fair, 

I hoped for better fate ; 
And this I did, — dismissed despair, 

And bade my heart still wait. 



134 Home Lyrics. 

So, lingering on this border land, 
I wait for love's bright beams: 

Say, lady, was this prophecy, 
( >r one of many dreams? 



LINES ON RETURNING FROM EUROPE. 

( )n. Mary, I 've wandered through palaces gay, 
And stood in the temples of old ; 

t've sailed over ocean and river and hay, 

And climbed o'er the glaciers cold ; 

I've seen the gay Frenchman all wild in the dance, 

The Scot in his furious reel ; 
['ve seen the Italian with sinister glance, 
And the Mash from his poniard of steel ; 

I 've gazed on the kings and queens of die earth, 

And seen them all royally ride, 
\inl the lords and the ladies all styled of high birth 

Enwrapt in their pomp and their pride ; 

I 've seen the great wealth that some of them hold, 
And strolled through their sumptuous halls, 

Where tapestried beauty, and sculpture, and gold, 
Adorn the Carrara cased walls ; — 

But this is the palace, dear Mary, for me, 

And gladly 1 enter its door ; 
For here a good wife, dogs, and hooks I can see. 

And my heart it can ask nothing more. 



Up and Away ! 135 



IT AND AWAY! 

Al.AS ! how oil our lot in life 

To suffer and be still ; 
To piti h or strike our moving tent 

At some superior will ! 

What though the golden sunset Tills, 

And birds around u . sing, 
Yet through them all the voi< e rings out, 

" Arise and spread thy wing." 

The pleasant home, the fairy bower, 

To other hands must fall ; 
And Eve-like out oi Paradise 

We go and leave our all. 

E'en when the stormy clouds hang low 

And darken all the day, 
It matters not. ; that cry rings forth, 

" Up and through all away ! " 

The tears may fall like April's rain, 
The heart bowed down mav go, 

Bui '1 is our overshadowing laic 

To wander to and fro, 

To leave the friends whom we have found 

Just as their love grows dear, 
And give them in tin- parting hour 

The pilgrim's parting tear. 



i |i . Home I I 



\ SONG OF Ai'l.n LANG SYNE. 

WRITTEN FOR THE CENTENNIAL FESTWA1 OF mi i ik m PRES 
BYTERIAN CHURCH AT I'Hl MEETING HOUSI SPRINGS a I CAR 
i i .1 i , PENN , hi V 1, 1857. 

Snt hi i> old a< quaintam c be Forgot 

Ami blotted from oui mind \ 
( m we forgel oui eai 1\ lot. 

Vnd the daj 9 ol auld lang sj ne ? 
t >i auld lang sj ne, deai fi iends, 

i »i .mill lang \ Hi-, 
We'll drink .1 < up ol kindness up 

From these spi ings 1 il auld lang syne. 

v. from this boiling fount have flown 
Thoughts thronging from youth's tra< k, 

We 'il > ast i" claj life's burdens down, 
Thi >ugh the moi row < alls them back. 

( >nce more we greet familial s< enes, — 
The « a\ e, the creek, the rot ks, 

The iin \ est field 1, and girls that glean 
Between ill*' well i»uiii shot k 1 

The town, the chur< h, the an< ienl trees, 

The 1 etart's rapid stream, 
The sulti y noon, the mountain bree e 
ill,- Mm' . last golden beam. 

* lui eai h daj 1 are round us now, 

1 > 1 1 1 spi ingtide's happy lo\ es, 
\\ inn maidens bound around »>m brow 

The symbols ol the doves 



/'.,'■. I I 

i »ii, happy days I oh, gi ilden da) s, 

Sweel days i ii auld lang ij ne, 
\\ hen life w .1 a naught 1 >ul n mm lei i 

\m I the •< 1 1 1 ne'ei failed to shine I 

And while these ni' Mini. mi in. il <■. shall stand 

Enthroned in peerless blm , 
So i' mg w ill we re< .ill this land 

Willi lo\ e full, si .-.. and 11 ue. 

Ami when :i hundred years ha\ <• fled, 

Ami others take qui plai «•, 
Though we be Bleej ling with the 1 leai 1 

( )in names theii si mgs maj grai 1 
In theii days oi auld lang ij ne, 1 leai ii iends, 

Theii days oi auld lang sj m 
\nd thej 'ii 1 |iiiii .1 < up "i i.iik Iness up 
From these springs oi auld lang syne , 
< >i auld lang syne, deai ii iends, 

1 i| .mi. I lang syne, 
I ,ci ''. hll die ( up ni kindness up 
To the bra\ e oi auld lang bj m 



A SONG. 

Say in 'i to ni'' 1 must not l< ive 

The I' i\ eliness in thee, 
When thou ai 1 life and light and 1 1 

And evei ything to me. 

Did 1 In in the daisy oi the m< u n 

Refuse i<> love the sun, 
< >i . \ cning ' loud to hide its blush 

When day 1 1 bi ight 1 ourse ii run. 



138 Home Lyrics. 

Go ask the morning stars that shine 

So high above the earth, 
That they refuse their ceaseless song 

To Him who gave them birth. 

The flower and cloud may heed thy call, 

The stars may silent be, 
But flower and star will cease to shine 

When I cease loving thee. 

Say not to me I must not love 

The loveliness in thee. 
Love is eternal in its strength ; 

So mine for thee must be. 
Eternity, eternity, 
Through all its cycles, lovely one, 

My soul shall walk with thee. 



THE DEATH-BELL. 

Hark ! the peal of death is heard ; 
Eyes are weeping, hearts are stirred. 
Hear the Tyrant's boastful cry 
As the death-car rattles by : 
" Man of strength and brave of heart, 
Yield thee to my conquering art ! 
Hear the bell ; it booms along. 
Join the chorus of my song, 

Ding, dong ; ding, ding, dong ; 
Ding, ding, 
Dong ! 



The Death-bell. 139 

" Down the mountain's side it rolls, 
O'er the sea it sadly tolls ; 
Through the cottage vale it rings, 
Through the palaces of kings. 
See the sexton ply his spade, 
Count the graves his hand has made ; 
Measure all both short and long, 
Then sing to me the conquering song. 
Chime the chorus, ding, ding, dong ! 
Life is short, but power is long, — 
Ding, dong; ding, ding, dong; 
Ding, ding, 
] >ong ! 



" Scan the bloody battle-fields ; 

See the harvest each one yields, — 

Trenches filled with ghastly forms, 

Lying there the food of worms. 

Oh, what glory 't is to see 

All men yielding life to me ! 

No strong hand can shield or save 

When I build the clammy grave ; 

Then sing to me the Conqueror's song, 

Chime the chorus, ding, ding, dong ! 

Man is weak, but I am strong, 

Ding, dong ; ding, ding, dong ; 
Ding, ding, 
I ><>ng ! 



" Look on ocean's stormy breast ; 
There behold my might confessed, — 
Yon proud ship in one brief hour 
Shattered by the billows' power. 
How her victims' voices ring 



Home Lyrics* 

'Neath the blackness ol mj w ing . 
I low the) w eep and wildly ra\ e, 
winn 1 v.tth i ides the roai ins w a\ e ' 
I'ln-ii sing to me the Conqueror's song, 
Swell the choi us, ding, ding, don ' 
I ,.wu\ .mil sea to me belong, 

I >ing, dong ; ding, ding, dong . 
Ding, ding, 

I 'on:; | " 



I v.uh ' there < ome \ .1 purple daj . 
When thy powei w ill pass away. 
Christ's bright fool shall touch oui world, 
His pure bannei be unfurled , 
i'\ rants ill to darkness hurled, 
rrumpel blasts shall drow n thy bell, 
Shouts ol joj supplanl thy knell, 
Sheeted dead shall i ise and weai 
i Irowns .mil sceptres in the aii . 
\ml oui 11 ien l owl in- there ' 
Then as wo heai ii roll along, 
I'li.ii dreary, doleful, dreadful song, 

W oil we Know lli.it tlioii"h now StrOllO 

Phy fierce rule i nnnot be Ion 

\ oi o'oi >>m coffins w ceping throng 

That bell shall toll the burial son .. 

1 'ill:;, iloll;-, ; ding, dill;',, iloii:; . 
I 'ill;;, dill;;. 

1 )ong ' 



. / Song for the Day <•/ Trouble, i 1 1 



A SONG 

H IH I III- l>\\ i Hi i K< >ui:i i 

BRI 'i in- 1-, w Inn I ,ilc'. ',1mm (lew end I 

\nil in mi . upi m thy hem I. 
Win n thj wounded ipii ii l)cm 1 1, 

l like willi i\v ' i'ii i in c h .11 1 
When ili\ p heal i is fuinl and sore, 
Ami thy tears i an flow no mori , 
I iii , liii thine ' v < 
1 1|» in the skies, 
Thy troubles all will soon l" i i'i i 

Have thi flame i swepl i [own thy cot 5 

( >i floods thy \ es icl wrc< ked ? 
I lave garland ■ w hi( h thy heai I has Bought 

Thy i [vol's fori hi ad i Ii i ked ? 
I (as wealth like sen fi tain on the sam I 
Vanished from thy strong righl hand ? 
i iOok up, and heai 
Those wi irds ol i In i i 
I dropping from the heavenly land. 



I lave iliy lit ighl illumined hall i 
Im hoed to the tread ol death ' 

I [as he <»n thy nursei y walls 
Turned the poison ol his breath, 

( Ihanged to ice upon thy knee 

The babe who h eyes were light to thi i ? 

' »li, I ill |oo1< up ' 
Thai bittei cup 
Was mingled by divine de< ree, 



14- Home Lyrics. 

Is thy path a dreary one, 

Through clouds and waves and night ? 
Is thy life a weary one, 

A storm and an affright ? 
Doth an ever-raging sea 
Roll its tide of care o'er thee ? 
If through the dark 
Christ steer thy bark. 
It soon must find a peaceful lea. 

As the warrior smitten down 

Amid the piles of dead, 
Ere the last life-drops are gone, 

Lifts up his bruised head ; 
Sees his flag still blazing bright 
Where the foe breaks into flight. 
Greets the wild sky 
With thankful cry, 
Then gladly bids the world "good night 

So, brother, when the storm descends 

And beats upon thy head, 
Like to that warrior's, thy end 
With joy shall be o'erspread. 
Let faith still hold her vantage-ground. 
And soon the silver trump shall sound 
Thy battle done, 
Thy victory won, 
And Heaven's sweet consolation found. 



Wife and Wine. 143 



WIFE AND WINE. 



A DOMESTIC DIALOGUE. 



Come, wife ! give me wine, 

That blood-stirring wine 
Which once trickled down from the heights of the Rhine ; 

For troubles becloud me, 

Vexations enshroud me, 
And my heart cries for wine, the bright golden wine 
That drops from the clusters that blush o'er the Rhine. 

The wise man of old, 

In the Bible hath told 
(And in words that deserve to be written in gold) 

How wine maketh glad 

The heart that is sad ; 
So, wife, bring me wine, that amber-hued wine, 
That flows from the rocks that o'ershadow the Rhine. 



In this world, dark and drear, 

Say, where is the cheer 
That can wake us to light or to gladness, my dear, 

That shall make life's dull round 

With sweet music resound, 

If it be not this wine 

Which flows from the vine, 
That purples the rocks of the turreted Rhine? 
Then give me, I pray, oh, give me this wine, — 
Just one flask that has basked in the light of the Rhine ! 



144 Home Lyrics. 

(Wife, archly looking up from her work, responded :) 

Ah, I'm pained to remind 

A husband so kind, 
Of that which should never have passed from his mind. 

Why can you not see, 

In these lips pouting free, 

Riper juices than flow 

From the clusters that glow 
On the sunny-clad hills of your fabulous Rhine ? 

(Husband, smiling affectionately towards his wife, iterum loquitur :) 

Yes, wife, that is true ; 

While you are in view, 
My thoughts should all run on sweet daisies and dew. 
" A cluster of grapes is the wife of thy youth," 
Old Solomon said, and he spake but the truth ; 

Yet if my heart sips 

But the juice of red lips, 
My palate, I fear, would soon know an eclipse ; 

So do not combine 

With these troubles of mine, 
But hand down that bottle of Hockheimer wine, 
And we '11 fret not at troubles, nor to sorrow incline, 
While I chant you the legends that hallow the Rhine. 

(Scene closes with the production of the bottle and a thimble-rap 
on the head of the poet.) 



THE SPARROW'S NEST. 

A bright little sparrow came under my eaves, 

And though busy as she could be 
In building her nest of green mosses and leaves, 

She sang a sad song unto me. 



The Sparrow s Nest. 145 

And this much I heard of that mellow-toned song, 

As she trilled it forth in my ear : 
" What a safe place is this to rear up my young, 

And here was my nest of last year. 

" The good man within has a nest of his own, 
And a babe sits enthroned on his knee ; 

And my own I am sure he will not molest, 
For the baby will make him love me. 

" In the evening's decline they both will keep watch, 

And list for the cry of my brood, 
And smile as they see their first efforts to catch 

The worms on the crumbling wood. 

" Then here will I build, here summon my mate, 
Mere pour forth each morning my song : 

A child 's in the house, and she will create 
A shield for both me and my young." 

But sad was my heart as it breathed forth a moan, 

The sparrow I could not tell why, — 
Since the last Spring had gone, my baby had flown 

Far away to her home in the sky. 

Yet still, O bright sparrow, come build in my thatch, 

And under my eaves pour your song ! 
Perchance mid its echoes my poor heart may catch 
The voice of sweet Bessie, whose green grave I watch, 

And whose name shall guard thee from wrong. 



1.JO - 



I'llK MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 1 

rHROUGH Winter's dark and dreary night, 
Led on by freedom's changeless star, 

Lo ! a poor mother in her flight 
Toils Northward for the land afar, — 

Toils Northward through the forest wild, 
With hunger taint, and weak with tear ; 

And elose she elasps her sobbing child, 
That fierce pursuers may not hear. 

From secret nook the hooting owl 

Screams forth his terrors on her path ; 

And soon she hears the dreadful howl 
Of bloodhounds coming in their wrath. 

Onward, still onward swift she flies, 

For now the haying paek draws near. 
Until a cottage light she spies 

Amid the forest dark and drear. 

for the hearthstone quick she hounds, 
And hursts at once the yielding door. 
When suddenly the hot-mouthed hounds 
Drag her all bleeding to the floor. 



1 The touching incident was related in mv hearing by .1 young 
ed orator, named Stephen Douglass, of Chicago, in an anti- 
slavery .- lelivered in Detroit 



The Mothers Sacrifice, \ \ 

Then boldly to the cotter's \\iu- 
l ter sobbing babe in faith sin- tost : 

" Woman, oh, shield my baby's life ! 
Its mother now is lost — is lost." 

\iul now again the spoiler's hand 
With curses smites the mother down. 

While wistfully his eye has scanned 
The babe from off her bosom thrown. 

And sternly in her car he cries, 
" Woman, 1 see that child is thine." 

"No, no," the breaking heart replies; 
" Belie\ e me, 't is no child oi mine." 

Then through the forest dark and wild, 

With galling fetters on her hand, 
lb- leads the mother from her child 

Back to the worn) prison land. 

And though the dreary path she trod 

Led far from child and liberty, 
Net still that mother cried, "Thank CoA \ 

My unpolluted babe is free." 

( ) Freedom, when was offering laid 

( )n tin pure altai like to this? 
\ mother's instincts all outweighed, 
I lei heart on slavery's glittering blade. 

To tell the world what bondage is. 



[859 



[48 Home Lyrics. 



LINKS 

WRITTEN ON THE RECEIPT OF CYRUS W. FIELD'S DESPATCH 
ANNOUNCING THE SUCCESS OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. 

Lift up your heads, ye everlasting hills ! 
Ye rock-bound portals of the sea. give way ! 
Ye sleeping thunders oi the mountain-tops, 
Ami forests vocal with the moaning pine, 
Ye winged winds that sweep the roaring main. 
Come join your song with stern Niagara's voice, 
And tuneful chorus of the river tides. 
And silver chiming of the rippling rills ! 
Let our wide continent unite to swell 
The world's glad anthem on this happy day ; 
For rough old Ocean, wild with all his storms, 
At last falls conquered in his own domain. 
A modern Cyrus now, with Titan chain, 
Comes, not as Xerxes scourging his proud waves, 
But bends the vanquished captive to his will. 
Behold the conquered monarch of the deep, 
As through the harbor's gate he drags the fleet, 
And bathes with sobbing waves his victor's feet ! 

See how the world is heaving in her joy, 
How rival kingdoms rise in glad salute, 
And sister cities meet in fond embrace ! 
America on ancient Albion smiles ; 
Europe from Italy's soft sunny eyes. 
And Asia from poor India's troubled strand. 
Into the New World's leaping heart look down. 
And whisper in her bending ear, " All hail ! " 
New York the brilliant city of the Franks 



es oh the S w ap i. i (.g 

Receives unto her breast with warm embrace, 
Ami showers her smiles on London's hoary walls. 
Greets with a shout old Edinboro' town. 

\ml with her sister citie ;, South and W est, 
Thunders a hearty welcome round the domes 
That gild the cities of the Northern Bear ; 
While roll its echoes far along the plains 
Where Vsia's hordes in savage conflict bleed. 
Hamburg from Baltic's rough and rocky shore 
Sends her free greeting to a Nation free ; 
And venerable Rome, arising slow, 
t,'.m scarce believe that in this wicked age 

\ miracle is wrought without her aid, 
And wonders if, .is in the days of old, 
The gods again have come upon the earth ; 
While ruined cities of the world behold 
The herald rays of her millennial dawn. 

Proud kings, and emperors, and smiling queens 
Extend the ungloved palm, in earnest grasp, 
l\> take our young Republic by the hand ; 
While dust-beclouded ministers of state, 
Throughout the hemispheres both old and new. 
This day upon the Ocean's rim have met, 
\nd in the glad rejoicings of the hour 
Unite to say : " Let this one simple cord 
Which ocean now is forced to hold. 
Be to us all .1 golden link o\ love, 
That henceforth we, as rulers wise, may heai 
The honest beatings of each other's hearts. 
And yield our nations and their sacred rights 
To that perpetual and most holy peace 
Which this day dawns upon a startled world." 

VUGUST J, 1858. 



150 Home Lyrics. 



HOPES AND FEARS; OR, THE MAIDEN'S 
THOUGHTS BY THE SOUNDING SEA. 

A SONG. 

A maiden sat on the rock-piled beach 

All pensively, all pensively, 
And hymned her fading girlhood's thoughts 

In the ear of the sounding sea, 
The sounding sea. 

" My life is breaking from Youth's spell 

Full rapidly, full rapidly, 
And soon my bark must launch and sail 

O'er the waves of this sounding sea, 
This sounding sea. 

" And who with fearless heart will come 

To pilot me, to pilot me ? 
Who shield me from the tempest's wrath, 

Which ofttimes smites the sounding sea, 
The sounding sea ? 

" What star shall shine along my way ? 

Who '11 answer me, who '11 answer me ? 
What harbor shall my anchor hold, 

If safe I pass this sounding sea, 
This sounding sea ? 

" Frail barks have carried others o'er, 
Then why not me ? say, why not me ? 

Sure there 's a pilot and a breeze 
To bear me o'er this sounding sea, 
This sounding sea." 



The Lady and the Cloud. 151 

Her gentle words on Ocean's ear 

Fell silently, all silently ; 
But the maiden had no answer back, 

Save the sobs of the sounding sea, 
The sounding sea. 



DEAR LADY, YOU'VE OFTTIME MARKED AT 

NIGHT. 

Dear lady, you 've ofttime marked at night 

Upon the sky some lonely cloud. 
Seen it float brightly in the lunar light, 

Then roll away with darkness for its shroud. 
While hovering near " the queen of night," 

Her own fair radiance made it fair, 
Till changing currents turned its dreary flight, 

And bore it darkening through the air. 

So have I glowed beneath the eye 

Of one I loved and loved too long, 
While bliss came melting in the sigh 

Which whispered that my love was wrong ; 
Soon like that cloud, when thou art gone 

And thy bright eye cannot illume, 
I '11 pass to darkness deep, and lone, 

Without one hue to gild my gloom. 



152 Home Lyrics. 



PIEDMONT AND FREEDOM. 1 

The bugle blasts of Liberty 
Through Piedmont's vales once more have rung ; 

And as the winds arouse the sea, 
These tones inspire each heart and tongue 

With memories of their ancestry. 

Up where the snowdrifts never melt, 
Pure Freedom holds her citadel ; 

And there for centuries have dwelt 
Such men as steel could never quell, 

And only unto God have knelt. 

In secret place of the Most High 
Like eagles have they built their nest ; 

And though the tempests hurtle by, 
And rock the cliffs on which they rest, 

God's sheltering wings around them lie. 

But when the banners of the Free 
In bright folds stream upon the air, 

Ere War can frame his dread decree, 
They scent the battle, and prepare 

To strive for Christian liberty. 

The patriot pastors send their call 
Through Asti, Alba, and Savone, 

Through Vercelli and Pignarol, 
And bid their youth in thrilling tone 

For Liberty to stand or fall. 

1 The Piedmontese clergy have found it impossible to hold aloof 
from the national movement ; and pastorals have issued not only from 
the patriot bishops of Pignarol and Casale, of Savone, Vercelli, Asti, 
Alba, etc. 



A Morning Chant to my Boy. 153 

Brave Piedmont ! Though War's crimson wave 
Shall dash around thy mountain wall, 

And multiply the warrior's grave, 
Yet God, who ruleth over all, 

His cherished Church will shield and save. 

So long and nobly hast thou stood 
For Christ, his Holy Word and Church, 

That through War's fiery storm and flood 
The enemy in vain shall search, 

For spoils as precious as thy blood. 

Fear not the foes to be revealed, 
Not Europe and her crowns combined ; 

For if thou wilt refuse to yield, 
And trust in God, thou still shalt find 

His Truth thy buckler and thy shield. 

May, 1859. 



A MORNING CHANT TO MY BOY. 

When the birds begin to sing, 
Then my little boy takes wing 

And flies right out of bed, 
With smiles about his rosy lips 

And curls about his head. 
And through the house, and through the hall 
We hear his merry song and call, 

Like bird upon the tree ; 
A precious bird indeed is he, 
Thus fluttering through our green roof-tree, 
A bird of Paradise to me ! 



154 Home Lyrics. 



"TRUCE AND A PEACE;" OR, THE EXILE'S 
SONG AND SIGH. 

WRITTEN ON READING THE ANNOUNCEMENT THAT THE ARMIS- 
TICE HAD BEEN AGREED UPON BETWEEN AUSTRIA AND 
THE ALLIES, AND A PEACE DECLARED. 

"Truce and a Peace ! " What words arc these 

That ride upon the winged breeze 

And sweep the sounding sea? 

" Truce and a Peace ! " If so it be, 

Then Italy at last is free, 

From towering Alp to Adriatic Sea ! 

" Truce and a Peace ! " the waves reply, 

And smiles are shed from every eye ; 

While loud goes up the Exile's cry : 

" Rejoice, I pray, rejoice with me, 

For Truce and Peace the Emperors decree, 

And Italy, fair Italy, 

Is free, is surely free, 
From towering Alp to Adriatic Sea ! " 

Once more I see, though far from home I stand, 
The peerless glories of that mountain land. 
Upward, slow-rolling, lo ! the war-clouds go, 
And grandly cap her lofty peaks of snow, 
While softly on her silent lakes of blue 
Their gloomy record tails in sombre hue. 
No longer drowned by thunder-speaking gun, 
Her arrowy streams rush roaring to the sun ; 
Stern avalanches lift their peals anew, 
And lofty pines their anthems wild renew, 
And chant those songs the men of Rutli knew. 



" Truce and a Peat e." [55 

Park sleep the shadows round Mount Rosa's base, 

But bright the smile on every shepherd's face, 
As down from lofty cliff and lichened rock 
With cautious step they lead the broken flock ; 
Their thrifty vines, of late with blossoms dressed 
(But later still by flying squadrons pressed), 

Once more put forth the leaf, and sweetly shed 

Their tender fragrance o'er the recent dead. 
Now soon their cots each soldier eye shall see, 
And sturdy babes shall climb each lather's knee, 
And modest maidens check the lover's glee, 
While round tin- mountain spur and down the dell, 
They chant in chorus to the cowherd's bell, 
And Hood the valleys with sweet Music's spell. 

Yea, moic, 

( >n vine clad hills and through the rocky pass 

I see the waving plume and bright cuirass, 

And hear the bannered legions as they sing 

Paeans of glory to their flag and king, 

Or those sweet songs that breathe of France and home, 

Her rosy banquets and her red wine's loam, 

i br fetes and chaplets for her sons who gave 

Freedom to Italy,— to tyranny, a grave ! 

I see the Ilapsburg house involved in shame 

By Solferino and Magenta's fame ; 

Hear rising States their liberties declare, 

And freedom's songs through all the golden air: 

In galleys foul and oubliettes profound 

Heroic spirits catch tin- lofty sound. 

And, angel aided, break the weary chain 
That long lay festering both wrist and brain; 
And now, beneath the banners of the free, 
And round the coast of Italv's blue se.i, 
I hear them swelling high their jubilee! 



156 Home Lyrics. 

Then let your thanks with mine go up on high, 
Let every voice help swell the Exile's cry : 
" Rejoice, I pray, rejoice with me 
For Italy this clay is free ; 

Is nobly free, 
From towering Alp to Adriatic Sea ! " 



" Good news, indeed ! " our throbbing hearts reply ; 
" But, hark ! what means that lowly whispered sigh, 
Or that deep sob from yonder breaking wave, 
As though the voice of some desponding brave 
Mourned near an altar or some turfless grave? " 
" I hear, I hear ! " the saddened Exile cries, 
While tears fall flashing from his stormy eyes : 
" 'T is Garibaldi's ; and my voice shall go 
On Freedom's pinions to his hills of snow. 
Speak thou, great hero ! let her children know 
If their loved Italy be free or no ! " 

Still sobbed the waves, the winds still murmured low; 
And rolling back from Italy's bright shore, 
The Exile heard — his heart could bear no more — 
The one, sad, desolating echo, No ! 

August 17, 1S59. 



REPOSE. 



The air is stirred with holy life, 

All earthly thoughts take wing ; 
Hushed be the tumult of my heart, 



I hear the angels sing. 



On Hearing a Lady Sigh. 157 

Yes, o'er my bowed and weeping head 

I feel their waving wings, 
While mercy drops are falling round, 

I >rops from the heavenly springs. 

And softly from the holy haze 

Falls forth the word of cheer: 
"Speak, troubled soul ! what is thy need? 

Jesus himself is here." 

"My Lord and God," my soul replies, 

" I hear thy gracious call. 
No need have I, sin< e thou art here ; 
Thou art my all in all. 

"Oh, let me ever here repose 

I Fpon iliy soothing breast, 
For now 1 know how blissfully 

Thy weary ones find rest." 



ON HEARING A LADY SIOII. 

FAIR lady, let me search thy soul 
That sigh's deep cause to see : 

Oh, 1 would give the world to know 
If it was breathed for me ! 

If so, — and it would stay thy grief, 
I low glad my soul would be 

To offer up this shattered heart 
A sacrifice for thee ! 



158 Home Lyrics. 



A SONG OF HOPE. 

Rise, ye sons of Freedom, rise ! 
Let her flag possess your eyes, 

Your feet still hold her soil ; 
Rise, and hear the voice of God : 
" Defend and save your sacred sod 

From Treason's bloody broil ! " 
Rise, as the ocean tides arise, 
With tossing hands and tuneful cries ! 
Rise, and soon the world shall see 
Before the standards of the free 

The traitor-hosts recoil. 

Broken long those charms of peace, 
That gave us once such sweet release 

From War's red sacrifice ; 
And broken many a stricken heart, 
In village lane and city mart, 

Where fell death's bloody dice. 
Broken, 
Long broken, States our eyes may see, 
And sad songs form our minstrelsy ; 
Still, still the Union's bond shall be 

Firmer than polar ice. 

Mighty is the battle's stake, 

And strong the ties the traitors brake, 

But stronger is our hope, — 
Hope, though the ship's strong cables part, 
And seams and bolts begin to start, 

As through the storm we grope ; 
Hope in the mighty builder's art, 
Faith in the Nation's loyal heart, 

With every foe to cope. 



The Pantheon at Rome. 159 

Rise ! ye sons of Freedom, rise ! 
Let her flag possess your eyes, 

Your feet still hold her soil ; 
Rise, and hear the voice of God : 
" Defend and save her sacred sod, 

Nor grudge the bloody toil." 
Rise, as the ocean tides arise, 
Greet the red breaking on our skies 
With waving hands and joyous cries. 
Rise, and soon the world shall see 
These stately empires of the free 
Refounded in their Unity ; 

Their flag once more, 

On sea and shore, 
The beacon light of Liberty. 

March, 1863. 



THE PANTHEON AT ROME. 

Within Rome's oldest temple walls I stood, 
That temple reared to every heathen god, 

And through its vast and lofty dome 

Looked straightway out upon the heavens abroad. 

And thus it seemed our Christian hands should build, 

With altars open to the throne above, 
That so the Holy Spirit might come down 

Gently descending as the heavenly dove ; 

Gently descending on each waiting heart 
With gifts of righteousness and love untold, 

And not in wrathful beams, as God looked down 
Upon those heathen worshippers of old. 



160 Home Lyrics. 

With open roof, and open yearning heart, 
And Christ the Mediator on the throne, 

Each humble Christian then, with eye of faith, 
Could see that bird of peace come fluttering down. 



BURIAL FLOWERS. 

Bury not the bright flowers, 
All fresh in their bloom, 
With the dust of my clay, 
When at last laid away 
In the depths and the dark of the tomb. 

For I so love the flowers, 
Smiling up from the sod, 
That I would not have one 
Shut out from the sun, 
Or veiled from the blessings of God. 

But strew cypress around, 
And one wreath evergreen, 
W T ith the lily so pale, 
That sweet one of the vale, 
Like faith shining brightly between. 

Then break not a bud, 
Nor sever one flower 
In that shadowy clay, 
When my life fades away 
Through the tears of the burial hour. 



Michigan Flag Song. 161 



MICHIGAN FLAG SONG: AN ECHO FROM 

SUMTER. 

ADAPTED TO THE " ANVIL CHORUS " FROM 'ML TROVATORE." 

I. 

Trumpet and ensign and drum-beat are calling 

From hillside and valley, from mountain and river. 

" Forward the flag ! " E'en though heroes are falling, 
Our God will his own chosen standard deliver. 

Chorus. 
Star-spangled Banner ! our hopes to thee are clinging ; 
Lead us to victory, or wrap us in death ! 
To thee 
Stanch are we, 
While yet a breath 
Remains to sing thee, 
Or arm to fling thee, 
O'er this fair land, wide and free. 

ii. 

" Union and Freedom ! " our war-cry is rolling 
Now over the prairie, now wide o'er the billow. 

Hark ! 't is the battle ; and soon will be tolling 

The knell of the soldier who sleeps 'neath the willow. 
Star-spangled Banner, etc. 

in. 

Banner triumphant ! though grand is thy story, 
We '11 stamp on thy folds, in this struggle to-day, 

Deeds of our armies transcending in glory, 
The bravest yet chanted in Poesy's lay. 
Star-spangled Banner, etc. 



1 62 Home Lyrics. 



IV. 

Wise were our fathers, and brave in the battle, 
But treason uprises their Union to sever ; 

Rouse for the fight, shout aloud mid war's rattle, 
The Union must triumph, must triumph forever ! 
Star-spangled Banner, etc. 



Trumpet and ensign and drum-beat are calling 
From hillside and valley, from mountain and river. 

" Forward the flag ! " E'en though heroes are falling, 
Our God will his own chosen standard deliver. 

Chorus. 

Star-spangled Banner ! our hopes to thee are clinging ; 
Lead us to victory, or wrap us in death ! etc. 

April 29, 1861. 



SWITZERLAND; OR THE HOME OF LIBERTY. 

Land of the mountains grim and old, 

Whose peaks assail the sky, 
Whose glacier billows, sternly bold, 

Come tumbling from on high ; 
Land of the turbid, angry floods 

And thundering avalanche, 
Whose echoes falling to the woods 

Blend with thy " Ranz des vaches," 
Brave land, thus blessed with near approach to heaven, 
What noble virtues to thy sons are given ! 



Closing Prayer of 1862. 163 

For here amid thy granite peaks, 

Thy lakes so blue and long, 
Where voice despotic never breaks 

Upon the shepherd's song ; 
Here in thy rock-ribbed valleys green 

And pine-clad gorges deep, 
Where sunbeams warm are seldom seen 

And mountain shadows sleep, — 
Here where thy shepherd soldiers fearless roam, 
Has Liberty forever built her home. 



CLOSING PRAYER OF 1862. 

God of the Nation ! can it be 

Thine ear is closed against our cry ? 

Must this vast people once so free, 

So mighty both on land and sea, 
Amid the ruins of their country die? 

Must that bright flag which blessed the World 
With manhood's high and holiest hope, 

Whelmed o'er with shame, be sadly furled, 

Or down to ruin madly hurled, 

Where Anarchy's wild fiends in darkness grope ? 

Lift, lift, O God, in mercy lift 

The curtain of this dreadful gloom ! 

Remove the flame-sword from our path, 

Turn thou aside impending wrath, 

And for our trembling feet make room, — 
For sinking Liberty make room, make room ! 



io 4 Home Lyrics. 



SABBATH EVE AT GROSSE POINTE. 

Soft as the shadows of a heavenly day 
Fades the mild radiance of our Sabbath eve ; 
The voiceful waves in sobbing murmurs grieve, 

Like drowsy children, borne from sport away. 

High and afar the silver cloud sweeps by, 
Bearing perchance, this soft and hallowed even, 
Some band of loving angels home to heaven, 

In tender charge of one no more to die. 

Below, and slowly o'er the darkening wave 
Flits man's frail bark with white though shattered sail, 
That tells the story of that stormy gale 

Betwixt his cradle and the waiting grave. 

But higher than the cloud, or floating shroud, 
Or golden stars that now drop down their rays, 
Far through the upper depths in notes of praise 

Earth's pilgrims send, with chan tings full and loud, 
Their thankful chorus for God's Sabbath days. 



KEATS: A FRAGMENT. 

WRITTEN AT HIS GRAVE OUTSIDE OF ROME, 1 85 5. 

Beneath these massive walls of Rome 

A poet's sacred ashes sleep, 
Whose harp unbroken once outrolled 

The music of the upper deep. 



Vale! 165 

Athwart the sod that hides his face 

A spell of tender beauty lies, 
And robes with e'en a tearful grace 

These English daisies' dainty eyes. 

* • • • • 

Around and far, Rome spreads her wreck, 

With hoary ruin grimly crowned ; 
Yet is there not a sadder wreck 

Enfolded in this quiet mound, 
Where poet's broken heart and harp 

Enrich an empire's burial-ground? 



VALE ! 



Farewell, farewell once more ! 
God safely keep thee, 
That I may greet thee 
With glad "all hail," 
Ere I strike sail, 
Upon the farther shore ! 
For I love thee, 
And shall love thee, 
Evermore ; 

And thy sweet name for me 
A talisman shall be 
At heaven's door ! 

But now no more, 
No more ! 

My heart with tears brims o'er ; 
For I love thee, 
And shall love thee 
Evermore. 



i66 Home Lyrics. 



THE CHILD OF GENIUS. 

Drear is the lot where pines alone 
Some noble spirit touched with fire, — 

A queen or king mid rabble thrown, 
A jewel trampled in the mire. 

With lifted face and prayerful eye, 
Above, the mute appeal is made, 

That from the realms beyond the sky 
Kind Heaven will her own offspring aid. 

And so it sometimes comes to pass 
That when the child of heavenly birth, 

O'ercome by woes and sore distress, 
Sinks helpless to the clammy earth, 

An angel stands in beauty bright, 

Beside the nigh expiring form, 
And from the upper fields of light 

A radiance soft pours through the storm ; 

Inspires the soul with some high thought, 
Some vision new to mortal eyes ; 

Bestows the victory long sought, 

And fills the heart with glad surprise ; 

Or, finding that the fainting soul 
No longer cares on earth to roam, 

Beckons her back with sweet control, 
Back to the skies, her native home. 



The Butterfly and the Bible. 167 

THE BUTTERFLY AND THE BIBLE. 

ON THE SHORE OF LAKE SUPERIOR. 

Thou blithesome little wanderer, 

Like to a winged flower, 
Or tiny rainbow glittering 

Above the summer shower ! 
Why leave behind the forest breeze 

Whose fragrance scents the gale, 
Or pass the lily as it floats 

Fair as a distant sail? 

Is it to seek the holier leaf 

Of Heaven's own Holy Word, 
With hasty wing thou comest here 

And will not be disturbed? 
I've brushed thee rudely from the page, 

And bade thee take thy flight, 
But yet as oft wilt thou return 

And on my book alight. 

Come, tell me what attracts thee thus, 

What here allures thy taste, 
When flowers as gaudy as thy wings, 

Bedeck the neighboring waste ? 
Art thou some messenger of Heaven, 

Sent from the golden gate, 
A secret blessing to bestow 

Where all is desolate? 

Or does some spirit lurk within 

Thy soft and tender frame, 
That knowest aught of that new life 

Which these pure leaves proclaim? 



1 68 Home Lyrics. 

If not, and thou art nothing more 
Than one of earth's bright motes, 

Whose beauty fills the gazer's eye 
With pleasure as it floats, 

Still thou dost wake in me a prayer 

Which now I send to God, 
While kneeling in his temple here 

Upon the fragrant sod : 
" Oh, let me leave the ways of sin, 

Though flowers bedeck the road, 
And like this butterfly still cling 

Close to the Word of God." 



THE TWO SONGS. 

The song of the world is a sad, sad song, 
Like the knell of the bell's last toll ; 

But the song of the skies comes with glad surprise 
To the lark-like flight of the soul. 

Tears drop through one in a sobbing tone, 

Like a requiem at the tomb ; 
But hope's full joy is the heart's employ, 

When the dust shall have found its doom. 

The wail of the weary is heard below, 
like the moan of the midnight blast ; 

But the music of Love greets the soul from above 
When the bounds of the world are past. 



The Lily -bed. 169 



THE LILY-BED. 

The lily-bed is all abloom, — 

Broad its green leaves, and white its flower, 
Sweet the mild scent of its perfume ; 

But, ah ! it dies at sunset hour. 

No man can look upon its group 
Of slender trumpets white as snow, 

Nor smell their sweetly scented breath, 
But feels his heart with love aglow. 

If not the love of present years, 

Why, then the loves of long ago ; 
And this the story that they tell : 
" Alas ! my loves, how quick they go ! " 

To-day some fair one yields her smile, 
And all the heart with love is stored ; 

To-morrow, and her back is turned, 
And ashes on the heart are poured. 

Type of fair woman's transient love, 

Is this sweet lily of a day ; 
Yet briefly transient as it is, 

'T was sweet when on our breast it lay. 

And so I call my lily-bed 

The grave of love, though sad it sound, 
And drop my tears for one now lost, 

As day by day I pass the mound. 



170 Home Lyrics. 



THE MAID OF CHAMOUNI. 

In Chamouni I kissed a maid, 

A shepherdess was she, 
And not a single word she said, 
Though high she tossed her graceful head 

And sternly frowned on me. 

That she was pure, though low in rank, 

No one could fail to see, — 
Pure as the wreath on old Mt. Blanc, 
Whose shadow when the sun has sank 

Enshrouds all Chamouni. 

I told her I had longed to taste 

The dews of Chamouni, 
And the first flower that I had faced 
Whose petal lips those dews had graced, 

Was she, and only she. 

Then spake the maid with haughty air : 

" You live beyond the sea, 
But know that rule of everywhere — 
The thorns grow where the roses are — 

Holds good in Chamouni." 

'T was all she said, then waved her hand 

And parted company ; 
Yet still I could not help but stand 
And watch her and her tinkling band, 
Till shadows from Mt. Blanc had spanned 

The vale of Chamouni. 



Sabbath Sunset. — The Evening Star. 171 

SABBATH SUNSET. 

'T is Sabbath eve, — the sun in slow decline 
Behind the clouds his banner high has furled, 

And lofty trees in lengthening shadows read 
Their solemn lesson to a pensive world. 

Above the clover-blossoms of the field, 

Like aged men who with their children dwell, 

The dandelions with their silver heads 
Repeat the story that the shadows tell. 

A sad-voiced bird from out the maple's boughs, 
Full gemmed and dripping with the recent shower, 

Sends forth his plaintive note, and seems to sing 
A lay well suited to the tranquil hour. 

The neighing steed upon the distant hill 

Now lifts his head and waits his master's call, 

While from the meadow and the tangled wood 
The lowing cattle seek the home-roofed stall. 

The chirping swallows round the chimney top 

In airy circlings drop into their nest, 
And 'neath the night-bird's soothing lullaby 

Tired Nature calmly lays her head to rest. 



THE EVENING STAR. 

Bright as the star of evening shines, 

Man never sees it set, 
For night comes stealing softly down 

Wrapt in her robe of jet, 
And ere it kiss th' horizon's zone, 
The lovely orb is veiled and gone ! 



172 Home Lyrics. 

So may it be with her I call 
My life's fair evening star ; 

Before her brilliant torch shall reach 
Hesperia's dusky bar, 

May night along my path descend 

And earthly love and glory end ! 



"MICH FLIEHEN ALLE FREUDEN," ETC. 

A TRANSLATION. 

From me has fled all pleasure, 

Life ebbs as joy withdraws ; 
My griefs are without measure, 

And love the only cause. 
It frets and ever worries me ; 
Just where I am I cannot see. 
Who could such things have thought, — 

That love, ah me ! that love alone, 
Could one so far have brought, 
And so much sadness wrought. 

My peace is flown, 

And with heart so sore 
I shall find it never, 
No, nevermore. 

My poor, poor head seems wellnigh crazed, 
My poorer wits already dazed, 
My peace is gone ; 

And with heart so sore 
I shall find it never, 
No, nevermore. 



Ludwig [/Aland's Funeral. 173 



LUDWIG UHLAND'S FUNERAL AT TUBINGEN. 

1S62. 

The poet sleeps ; 
Loved hands have laid him to his rest : 

1 lis country weeps, 
And o'er the grassy hill whose breast 
Lends shelter till the final day, 

The people lay 
Their thousand crowns, 

The laurel and the bay, 
While little children, where death frowns, 
In joy repeat their artless cry, 
" He is not dead, 
I Ie sings ! " 
Yes; from the airy depths of sky 
There still shall float on moonlit eves, 
Through village street and forest leaves, 
O'er hillside bowers and harvest sheaves, 

Those cheerful songs 
That lighten labor's weary hand, 
That nerve for battle Freedom's band, 
That glorify his native land. 
" lie is not dead, 
He sings ! " 
Ay; up where highest strains are led 

He floats on angel wings, 
And while his thousand crowns of bay 
Along the grave-hill fade away, 
I Ie chants the lay 
And wears the crown 
To poets given 
On their immortal day ! 



1 74 flout* / ' " ■'■ > 



\ THOUGH r OF GOETHE, 

Great Goethe says that "poetry 
Springs forth from circumstance alone," 

Must come of some realit] . 
Possessing vow brain and bono. 

Goethe is right ; .is poets know. 

Best sii.uns on love, of love are bom. 
When some one creature beautiful 

Has both the heart and soul uptorn, 

Ami made of life .ill emptiness 
Save when it no. us the object sought ; 

Ami then the world is splendoi dressed, 
And diamond bright is every thought. 

Ami. Curtius-like, man then would leap 
l'.u darker gulfs than Rome e'er knew, 

Simply that she, the one beloved, 

Might know his passion deep was true. 

All gladly his great sacrifice 
I'im her deai peace alone he makes, 

Though by tho act his own is lost. 
And his great heart asunder breaks. 

Come, Fate, with love's sweet " circumstance," 

To me its joy unspoken bring I 
Then heart and lyre with me shall sound 

Such songs as laurelled poets sing. 



■,.'."s / an tNjf, To .1. l . ( at y, I . 



THE SE \ GUI i 'S i \kn ny. 

i 'i'i >\ the great sen's sandy beach 

Willi i>i can shell l car\ ei I hei name . 

No eye bul mine the s< roll < < »uU l reachi 

[Jut ill*' white sen gull sweeping came, 

i laiiffhl it, and bore it fat to sea 

In wi< ked, wanton Ian eny ; 

I ■*« > i in his en I Beemed to heat 

•* Marie," " Marie I " the name most deai 

" Mai ie," " Mai ie," it sounded Fat . 

v. e\ ening's o\ erhanging it ti I 

l turned to where the shell had w rought, 

Ami sure enough, the name was not I 

Bui .ill that there was lefl foi me 

\\ .1 . just i bubble <>i the sen 



TO an Nil-: LOUISE car v. 



Sino, sing, sweet song itres ■ I e\ ei sing, 
I ..wl like, from out moi n's put pie sky . 
Ami long as thou « ansl spread a wing 
From land to land, •till si lai and ilv. 
To * 1 1.< i in wiih heavenly hoi mony, 
\ . i lownward r< ills thy litany, 
The reverenl heai ts oi listening u\i\). 
Who softly breathe the low amen, 
While with an upward glance they ci v. 
" Some Binging angel walks the Bkj 



176 Home Lyrics. 



MOONLIGHT ON THE WATERS. 



How bright the moonlight falls 
Along the fretting sea, 
Linking with silvery way 
The billows and the sky, 
And yet its rolling waves 
Go moaning ceaselessly, 
And from the breaker's breast 
Its grief sobs piteously ! 
Tell me, thou restless sea, 
Why thou ne'er findest rest? 

From out the tide 

The sea replied : 

" Look in thy heart and see, 

For human hearts are like to me, 

Each one a moaning sea ; 

And though the heavens be bright, 

Their sobs rise endlessly. 

Tell me, O man, by earth caressed, 

Why is thy heart without its rest, 

And I will then reply to thee 

Why moan my waves so ceaselessly." 



The Robins. 177 



THE ROBINS. 

The cycle of the year had rolled 

Far down the days of Spring, 
When Winter's icy hands should fold 
His robes of snow, and vestments cold, 
And in his cave so drear and old, 

Sit an imprisoned king. 

The flowers were swelling all their buds, 

Impatient for the sun ; 
The crocuses had dropped their hoods, 
And as full wildly rolled the floods 
From melting fields and streaming woods, 

We thought the Spring begun. 

Nor we alone — for on the wing 

The robins speed their way, 
And round our roof-tree where they swing, 
The breath of warmer climes they bring, 
As through its boughs they sweetly sing 

Their first spring roundelay. 

But stern old Winter envious grows, 

And still his sway prolongs ; 
He shakes his garments as he goes, 
And from his lap casts forth fresh snows, 
To check the bud and blight the rose, 

And hush the robins' songs. 



178 Home Lyrics. 

No longer now their ruddy breasts 

Reflect the rosy morn, 
The snow-cap crowns their new-built nests, 
Upon their plumes the ice-drop rests, 
And cruelly their drooping crests 

By icicles are torn. 

Their tender feet more tender grow 

Around the spray they hold, 
Their notes are changed from joy to woe, 
And helplessly upon the snow 
They fall beneath the schoolboy's blow, 
All powerless with cold. 

But He who marks the sparrow's fall 

Has heard the robin's cry, 
And from the casement o'er the wall 
Sweet children, at the robin's call, 
Are seen to let the crumb drops fall, 

That robin may not die. 

So often, when life's storms beat hard 

Above man's weary head, 
God, e'en by infant hands, may guard, 
And dark despair in time retard, 
Or on our brows place his reward, 

When hope is wellnigh dead. 



The Sexton's Steeple-song. 179 



THE SEXTON'S STEEPLE-SONG. 

Aww up in the steeple so high, 

Mid the storms and clouds of the sky, 

Far removed from earth's turmoil and cry, 

As in sobs it goes plaintively by, 

The king of the people am I, 

As I rock in my steeple so high. 

While they rest in their slumber profound, 
And are vexed not by cares nor by sound, 
Through the city's wide cir< uit around 
I keep turning my vigilant eye, 
For the king of the people am I, 
As T rock in my steeple so high. 

When I sec- their great foe venture forth 
From the west or the south or the north, 
As he lifts his red torch to the sky, 
I ring OUl the bell's pien in.", cry, 

From my throne on the steeple so high, 
For the king of the people am I. 

Thus I sit and keep watch for their good 
Mid the wind and the storm and the Hood, 
Till the iii.-.lii and its darkness roll by, 
And the moon decks with glory the sky. 
Then down drop I from my perch on high; 
I in t, ah ! no longer a king am I. 



i8o Home Lyrics. 



THE EXHUMED WARRIOR. 

Down strikes my spade among the bones 
Of some old warrior of the West 

Whom here, above the Lake's low moans, 
His tawny tribe once laid to rest. 

In soil their paints had crimsoned red, 
The grim old chieftain's bones repose, 

To show perchance what blood he shed, 
While on the war-path of his foes. 

Forth from the crumbling bank out flies 
His vast but sadly sightless skull ; 

What "speculation" through these eyes 
Once moved this broken, battered hull ! 



'& 



Yet here, as drops the sinking sun 
Above his children far away, 

Come I, and set my foot upon 

The brave old warrior's skull and clay. 

The funeral pomp that laid him here, 
A long one hundred years ago, 

With tomahawk and belt and spear, — 
What boots it to the chieftain now ? 



Far, far his eagle vision sped 

Round the blue lakes he knew so well ; 
And doubtless, while his bands he led, 

Each rolling wave his name could tell. 



The Floods of Morning cheer the Sky. 1 8 1 

The hand that crushed the white man's skull 

To-day all fleshless lies and cold ; 
While white men, little sorrowful, 

Break in upon its sleeping mould. 

So what is human life at best, 

Though crowned with laurels bravely won? 
A flower fading in the- west, 

Which blossomed as the day begun ; 

A shadow darkening into night, 

From morning's beam on< e bright with hope ; 
A vision fading from the sight, 

As through the sepulchre we grope. 

Let statesmen, kings, and warriors brave, 

Trust not to human love alone, 
Nor sacred soil, nor rock-hewn grave, 

but leave in faith each mouldering bone 
To Him whose voice shall pierce the cave, 

Whose hand shall roll away the stone. 



THE FLOODS OF MORNING CHEER THE SKY. 

The floods of morning cheer the sky, 

And songs of birds the grove, 
And the silver cloud goes laughing by 

Like a white-winged herald-dove ; 
liut my poor heart, I know not why, 
Finds not in song or cloud or sky 

A power its tides to move, 
No force to wing its flight on high, 

Or lift it up to love. 



1 82 Home Lyrics. 



SUMMER IS DEAD. 

Summer is dead, dead all her flowers, 
And Autumn rains have stripped her bowers ; 
Dreary and sad the woods appear, 
And tinted leaves deck Summer's bier. 
We bury her there with tear and sigh, 
As far away her song-birds fly ; 
For Winter's steps are drawing nigh, 
When rural joys shall cease. 

But though fair Summer's life is done, 
And some bright joys with her have flown, 
Though snow and ice and winds and rain 
Shall reign and rage o'er lake and plain, 
Forward we cast our hopeful eyes, 
And wait the dawn of warmer skies ; 
Sweet Summer from her grave shall rise, 
And sow the flowers of Peace. 



MOONLIGHT MUSINGS. 

I walked amid the moonlight fair, 
That fell in silver shadows o'er the lake ; 

The waves came sighing to the shore, 

And murmured one sweet name as there they brake. 

From out that beauteous flood of light, 

That changed night's darkness into glowing day, 

I waited for one graceful form 

To take bright birth amid the silvery ray. 



Moonlight Musings. 183 

It seemed as though there could not be 

So much of beauty in the glowing air, 
Unless the presence of a form beloved 

In all her maiden majesty was there. 

And thus I sat in hopefulness, 

And waited for the moonbeam's happy birth, 
The mingling of the heavenly form 

With one equipped for all the joys of earth. 

Right well I knew, if once it came, 

Just whose that form of loveliness would be, 

And what its sex and mortal name, — 

And just how precious she would be to me. 

But onward sped the silent hours, 

And bright and brighter grew the moonbeam's ray, 
And still I sat and waited, watched and prayed, 

Until the dawning of the coming day. 

Yet no bright visitant came down, 

The cold moon wandered far into the West, 

And tearful o'er my loneliness 

I crept sad-hearted to my place of rest. 

Still, ever as the silver orb 

Comes pouring brightness on the gloomy night, 
I sit and watch all patiently 

For that sweet birth of beauty from her light. 



184 Home Lyrics. 



AT LIZZIE'S FUNERAL. 

She sleeps at last, — yes, calmly sleeps, 
Released from every pulse of pain. 

Her bed is made, — that narrow bed 
A mother's hand ne'er makes again. 

Deep silence reigns, and, drooping, broods 
O'er parlor, hall, and chamber stair, 

Though somewhere sobs are faintly heard, 
And somewhere low and wailing prayer. 

The cuckoo-clock that called the hour, 
And with quaint music waked her smile, 

Still calls for her in muffled note, — 
But Lizzie soundly sleeps the while. 

And loving friends all tenderly 

Strew flowers of snow and daisies red, 

While tear-drops rest on every leaf, 

Like dew from heaven here freshly shed. 

Still Lizzie sleeps, sleeps peacefully 
Within her white and dainty bed, 

Her two hands folded peacefully, 

Her dark locks clustering round her head. 

The mother breathes her precious name, 
The father sobs it through his tears, 

But yet she wakes not to their call, 
Though Love still marks the smile she wears. 

She sleeps, but 't is an Angel's sleep, 
Secure from all Earth's rude alarms ; 

Her pains are soothed, and sweet her rest, 
Within the Everlasting Arms. 



A Dream. 185 



A DREAM. 



At midnight hour I dreamed a dream : 
It seemed an angel came to me, 

And through the pathways of my soul 
She scattered seed of things to be. 

Then bending o'er me her bright face, 
Bright with a beauty not of earth, 

She smiling said, " The seed I sow 

Will soon break forth in fragrant birth." 

I slept and dreamed beneath her smile, 
And, lo ! the chambers of my heart 

Became each one a garden plot, 
With flowers abloom in every part. 

And what was strange, in each bright bud 
And forth from each unfolding rose 

I saw the face I worship most 

Her sweetest smile of love disclose. 

While through the air I heard a voice, 
As nightingale's, from thicket deep, 

" Love oft denies 

But still she tries 
To give her own beloved sleep. 

Sleep on, sleep on ! 



1 86 Home Lyrics, 

Soon o'er the steep 
Shall break the dawn 

Of happier skies 
When love in bonds no more shall weep, 
Since love no more her love denies." 



And so I wait till my sad soul 

Shall burst and break the -rave's dull elods, 
Anil with sweet Love, in Love's control, 

Walk the glad gardens oi' the Gods ! 



THE [DEAL AND REAL 

My heart has yearned for beauty's noblest sell". 

Has waited long, and wandered far, so far, 
Has squandered much of golden wealth and pelf, 

And strove to penetrate Love's distant star, 
That her ideal might at last be found, 

And so leap gladly to her sweet embrace, 
And stand in worship on the holy ground 

That gave her presence its right royal place. 
But no, ah no ! my wars had many run. 

And still tin- search all fruitless would remain. 
The prize as distant as with search begun, 

but, lo ! at last she doth my soul enchain ; 
lor here combined, all ravished, do I see 

The Real and Ideal, both in thee. 



7'di I'd'uii I — A'.i ( h Hente t Lu i . 1 87 



J'.M FAIM ! 

There is a hunger of the hear! ; 

The desert's pilgrim knows ii well, 
When sinking on the burning sand 

Beneath the > rue! mirage spell. 

There is a hunger of the mind ; 
The delving scholar knows ii well, 

Who fain would soke .ill my ,lri j< • , 

Within his narrow cloister < ell. 

There is a hunger of the soul ; 

Wing-sandalled poets know ii well 
When soaring far away from earth 

They coax ea< h star its tale to tell. 

Bui ah ! no hunger likens mine, 
l [unger ol hearl and mind and soul, 

And all for one sweel child ol earth, 
Wearing e'en now Heaven's aureole. 

■ * • • • 

( )h, pity me, ye angels bright, 

And heir me through the depths ol night, 

I )r curtain he] from human sighl I 



KX ORIENTE, LUX. 

T is said !>y those who gathered up 

Each floating Veda hymn, 
That light first came from out the Mast, 

With sun-clad cherubim. 



[88 Home Lyrics. 

But when I stood one summer eve 

Ami saw the sun go down, 
Flinging its golden splendors far, 

Like glory, o'er the town, 

And looked within the shining eyes 

( >f one its rays caressed, 
I thought the light of life for me 

Came surely from the West. 

For brighter than the sunset far, 
( )r fabled cherubim, 

In those loved eyes, each one a star, 

I read a sweeter hymn 
Than Veda's priests had ever sung, 

Or e'er from Veda's lyres had rung. 



PENITENTIAL. 

Lady, 

If I by some ungracious act or word 
In thy kind breast unkindly thoughts have stirred, 
Impose, 1 pray, lor this my thoughtless guilt. 
Of penal tribute, whatsoe'er thou wilt; 

All things, save one, [' 11 bear with manly part, 
But send not back, send not my shattered heart ; 
For if it have no value more to thee, 

Now worse than worthless would it be to me? 

Keep ii inurned in thine, — ifnol forevermore, 
Keep it till both of us shall iv;k h the Farther Shore. 



Happy Bondage* [89 



HAPPY BONDAGE. 



Slave of the beautiful am I, 

Subject in all complete, 
< >bedienl to her wishful eye 

While bending al her feet. 

I in- beauty does nol live alone 
In fleshly mould and tint, 

In dazzling smile, or slender /one, 
Or dimple's dainty glint. 

Still she is fair, divinely lair, 

Earth nowhere holds her peer ; 
Men look on hei with reverent air 

As one of holier sphere ; 
For bai I. oi ill lies higher worth 

Which glorifies the whole ; 
A new delighl is on Hie earth 

In her transfigured soul. 

Yes, slave of beauty true am I, 
I ler sha< kles strong I greet, 

I '11 wear diem proudly till I die 

Before her royal seat. 
Su< h bondage is bul freedom's Miss, 
And I would give my hearl to kiss 

I Pi white ami winged feet. 



190 Home Lyrics. 



SAY NOT TO ME I MUST NOT LOVE. 

Say not to me I must not love 

The loveliness in thee, 
When thou art life and light and soul 

And everything to me. 

Bid thou the daisy of the morn 

Refuse to love the sun. 
Or evening cloud to hide its blush 

When day's bright course is run. 

Go ask the countless stars that shine 

So high above the earth, 
To hush the music of their song 

To Him who gave them birth. 

The flower and cloud may heed thy call, 

The stars may silent be, 
But flower and star will cease to shine 

When I cease loving thee. 

Love is eternal in its strength ; 

So mine for thee must be, 
And through its cycles, lovely one, 

My soul shall walk with thee. 



Fire and /'load. — The Crown. 191 



FIRE AND FLOOD. 

IMi'ko.MI'TU ON READING THE EUROPEAN WAR NEWS 
OF SKIT. 2, 1870. 

FORTH marched Napoleon in the (lame of his ire, 
To give his young Prince the baptismal lire, 
When up rose King William with sword in his hand, 
And opened the dikes of the old Fatherland ; 
Then out rolled the floods, and with terrible rout 
Loth Frenchmen and fire put speedily out. 



THE CROWN. 

A wreath of glowing red and gold, 

Upon my lawn is seen ; 
It grew to beauty as a crown 

For my returning queen. 
And though for her right royal head 
It is not wholly meet, 
I '11 lay it down, 
A floral crown, 
At her bright dainty feet ; 
So it shall be 
Fair Nature's gift, 
To Nature's queen 
Through me. 



192 Home Lyrics. 



RED-RIBBON TEMPERANCE SONG. 



The world is awaking, 

And daylight is breaking, 
And down from the sky God's angels descend, 

Their happy hearts singing, 

Their spotless hands bringing 
Gifts greater than Kings bestow on a friend. 

The gifts they are bringing, 

The songs they are singing, 
Are such as bid man by his brother stand fast ; 

Though thunders be roaring, 

And tempests be pouring, 
Their precepts out-sound the crash of the blast. 

The rich are uprising, 

No longer despising 
The lowly and poor who faint in the street, 

But the lords of the land 

Reach out a brave hand 
To all who once more would rise to their feet. 

The black clouds are parting, 

The new day is starting, 
The star of man's brotherhood shines o'er the sea, 

Its bright beams declaring, — 

There 's no need despairing, 
There 's Hope for all men who dare to be free. 



Ireland. 1 93 

Yes, there 's hope, and great peace, 

In that mighty release 
That falls on the heart where the Red Ribbon flics ; 

For it makes the man whole, 

And it rescues the soul, 
To lift it at last to its home in the skies. 



1871. 



IRELAND. 
1889. 

O Ireland, fair Ireland, 

Child of Old England's sea ! 
Why is it that thou wakest not, 

Daring the right to be ? 
Thy beauty, like the evening star, 

Shines bright above the waves, 
But oh, thy heart, how sad it is 

For all thy spirit craves ! 

But Ireland, fair Ireland ! 

The Nations wait for thee ; 
Strike thou the blow, thy chains will fall, 

And soon among the Free 
Thy star, the fairest on the sky, 

Shall guide thine eye 
To Liberty, 
To Liberty, and Victory, 

And flood with glory all the Sea. 



<)\ 



Home / in, s 



UIKTIIDAY GREETING. 



Sri'H>, lady, speed ! Iliy lnrllitl.iy comes , 

We fain would greet thee ere m flies, 
i ireathe benedii tions on thy fai e, 

I ,ook love into thy Bhining eyes. 
( )h, may there many, many more 

Be granted thee on earth below, 
i ,.i( ii happier than die one before 

With .ill the |oy iliy heart <;m know! 



*a)onnrt0. 



SONNETS. 



TO MARY IN GRIEF. 

Mary, for full a thousand weary miles 

I 've borne thy sorrow on my aching heart, 

And grieved I could not take from thee its smart, 

Converting all thy bitter tears to smiles, 

Enrobing thy sweet face and flowing hair 

In all their wonted loveliness and light, 

Like Luna shrouded in the clouds of night ; 

And daily have I offered up the prayer, 

That thy sore heart may heal, thy tears depart, 

And peace once more sit crowned upon thy brow, 

While streams of joy through all thy being flow, 

Waked by the Heavenly Healer's holy art. 

Then, Mary, may I hope again to know 

Rest on thy heaving bosom's ebb and flow. 



198 Sonnets. 

SIDNEY. 

Sidney ! noblest of all thy noble race, 

With heart more gentle than is woman's own, 

Where all sweet love-thoughts Love herself had sown, 

And given their utterance the divinest grace, 

Through all thy sonnets, by thy tears I trace, 

In one unvaried trembling minor tone, 

The deep, subdued, and melancholy moan 

Of heart denied the loving heart's embrace ; 

And down long centuries, now three times rolled, 

I take in sympathy thy quivering hand, 

And to my own sad heart thine own enfold, 

As near thy spirit-form I seem to stand ; 

For in thy plaintive self myself alone I see, 

Since her I love, the same stern Stella is to me ! 



SIMILIS ET DISSIMILIS. 

Like Madame de Sevigne ? Yes, like her 

Art thou, in purity of speech and thought, 

And all nobility of character, 

And power of conquest, through thy beauty, brought 

O'er men of scholarship and stately pride, 

Compelling them to call it bondage sweet, 

As they, love-fettered, walking at thy side, 

Pour song and sonnet round thy glowing feet. 

And yet, unlike that gifted one in this, 

That save for those within her filial fold, 

Where Nature rightly sheds her higher bliss, 

Her heart for other loves was strangely cold ; 

But deep as Ocean's fathomless abyss, 

Thy heart, like God's, consents all loves to hold. 



To a Singer in a Church Choir. igg 



TO 



ON GRADUATION DAY. 

Hail, lady ! stepping from Olympian groves, 
And looking down upon the vale below, 
Where silver streams through shining meadows flow, 
And struggling man, torn by his strifes and loves, 
Goes battling on in dusty clans and droves, 
What thinkest thou of Life and its wild show, — 
Yon life, which thou so soon must share and know, 
So harsh in contrast with this nest of doves? 
Lift thy down-drooping eyes and fluttering heart ! 
Dost thou not wear the Muses' panoply? 
Have they not taught thee how to bear thy part? 
Then, 'neath God's watchful, star-eyed canopy, 
In whatsoever field of strife thou art, 
Fear not ! thy spear shall take the Victory. 



TO A SINGER IN A GHURCH GHOIR. 

On this new altar of our holy God, 

A stranger lays the offering of his heart, 

And ere his pilgrim footsteps hence depart 

Along life's dusty pathway, rough and broad, 

Breathes forth his thanks in simple Sabbath lays ; — 

Thanks for that bread the preacher's hand bestowed, 

The pious zeal that through his phrases glowed, 

but most of all for that last hymn of praise, 

Which one sweet voice poured out upon the air, 

In tones so soft, so liquid, and so clear, 

That falling waters seemed to greet the ear, — 

An angel voice to chant a heavenly prayer : 

God grant that once again, beyond the sky, 

My ravished ear may hail its harmony ! 



200 Sonnets. 



TO 



Fair, patient lady, would it be amiss 
A word of praise to whisper in thine ear, 
An honest word, which when thy friends all hear 
Will say 't is true, — and that word like to this : 
In life's sad round the golden cup of bliss, 
That should the weary heart uplift and cheer, 
Not often to thy lips comes with a kiss, 
To bring thee happiness and joy and peace ; 
Yet still thy soul stands forth in hope serene, 
Like prisoner dreaming of his glad release, 
Or like the calm-faced holy Virgin Queen, 
Waiting the hour when earthly troubles cease, 
To find her crown within the world unseen. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

Oh, sad Spring day that clouds so many hearts, 
And drapes, with sorrow's sable badge of gloom, 
Thine own bright bursting buds of fragrant bloom, 
With thy dark coming, far from earth departs 
One sweet fair soul, to regions where no charts 
Of Time enable us, beyond the tomb, 
To track the flight of her immortal plume ! 
Gone where the earth-born tear no longer starts, 
O'er farewell partings when fond hearts are riven ; 
Gone, through the strange dark mystery of God, 
From clinging child and home, far, far abroad, 
To leave bewildered, gazing into Heaven, 
Her friends below ; who while she disappears, 
Lose the bright vision in their blinding tears. 



The Queen. — In this Bright World. 201 

THE QUEEN. 

When through the dusk my beauty walks a queen, 

And all things lovely bow their homage deep, 

And wild birds murmuring sing from out their sleep, 

As though the day-dawn was already seen, 

I brace my heart, and bid all passions mean 

Out from my nature far depart, 

Lest she, with her divinest vision keen, 

Should search my being through, by heaven-born art, 

And find the fires that Beauty kindles there ; 

While I stand trembling in my dire distress, 

Well knowing that the only love she lets me bear, 

The only love she grants me to confess,. 

Is that of spirit-form, refined and rare ; — 

The flesh, ah me ! she bids be passionless. 



IN THIS BRIGHT WORLD, OFT RISES TO MAN'S 

EYE. 

In this bright world, oft rises to man's eye 

A form of beauty wondrous fair to see, — 

Cheek, lip, and eye in brilliant harmony ; 

Scarce one faint flaw might artist keen descry, 

Though close he scanned the face in passing by. 

And yet, alas ! that it should ever be 

The Beauty's brain (if not vacuity) 

Is some poor putty-stuff, dull, dead, and dry ; — 

But when appears a palpitating soul, 

Enrobed with thoughtful, penetrating mind, 

And grace and beauty artlessly combined, 

Then is it vanquished man — fled self-control — 

Himself in reverent worship bows, on bended knee ; 

And this, sweet friend, this union rare, find I in thee. 



202 Sonnets. 



nil' FLOWER OF LOVE. 

How many wounded hearts in this sad world 
Haw wept in tearful song their tender woe, 
Ami draped, with sable curtains hanging low, 

Life's sombre path, as they with sighs have furled 
Hope's banner gay, and then have madly hurled 

Its shining glory into chaos dark I 

And all because love's flower they might not dare 

To pluck from woman's breast, or shining hair. 

And shout their love in song, as does the lark. 

But ne'er did man so for that love-llower pine. 

Or ever bear a wound so deep and sore. 

Or ever towards despair so far decline, 

Or ever battle in siu h fight before. 

As 1. with this poor Struggling heart of mine. 



THE VILLAGE OF BUTLER, PENNSYLVANIA. 

( >\ stranger eyes how fair thy beauty gleams. 
From thy sequestered nook among the hills. 

Now radiant with the morning's earliest beams ! 
And, save the murmur of thy silver rills 
That gently creep down through the silent glen, 
No sound is heard to lull the voice o\ men. 
Ood's Stately temple, hid anion;; thy shade. 
lis solemn worship, and its son;; of praise, — 
Seems pure as that where our lust parents prayed, 
When o'er their altars beamed Heaven's loudest rays. 

And as of old, earth's lofty hills were made 

A place where angels Came to chant their lays, 
So here they seem, with every Sabbath morn. 
Still to descend, with blessings Eden born. 



America to Glad . - l\< G. / '. N, /.. 203 



AMERICA I'd GLADSTONE. 

Brave statesman, of thai sturdy kingdom old, — 
Star of the Easl to this our Western world. 
Where her own children Freedom's flag unfurled, — 
Again we greet thee, as with heart lull bold, 
Ere yet the thunders of the storm abate, 
Thy hand with hero-grip takes hold once more 
On mighty England's swinging helm of State ! 
God pour fresh wisdom on thy noble brain, 
And in thy heart a coura; .>• ;ran» II3 great, 
That thou through all her seas may firm maintain, 
In all its hid. id and healthful pui ii\ , 
The priceless stores of English liberty ; 
And late, sage leader ! may that winged escort ri 
That hears thee, armor-stripped, within the silent skies. 
Sept. 19, 1880. 

TO G. V. N. 1,. 

SEX \oi SIMAL. 

Tins day memorial of thy flowing years 

Falls o'er me with a startling, soft surprise, 

And with it drops from out these summer skies 

\ spini voice that breathes oi distant spheres, 

And hints that henceforth, as our outlook clears, 

'Twill Westward be, — the sunrise disappears ! 

At one another's side, like soldiers paired, 

Full half through life we now have walked and wrought ; 

The cup of joy, and sometimes sorrow, shared ; 

Not always one in speculative thought, 

Yet quarrelled not, — for Truth it was we sought ; 

So, when the curtain falls, and sets us free, 

May you with yours, and I with mine, still be 

In one another's happy company. 



204 Sonnets. 

TO A PORTRAIT. 

Take this fair face, her brain and breast. 
Say not a word on all the rest 
Of beauties bright that in her shine, 
Like those which deck the form divine, - 
And you shall very shortly know 
One more than mortal walks below. 
To feel the pulses of that breast, 
If next your own it chance to rest ; 
To meet the glance of that bright eye 
And catch its smile as she goes by. 
Compels the prayer, " Now let me die ! 
I've seen the beauty of the earth ; 
What else there be, is nothing worth. 
In her, as dew-drop in the day, 
Let me exhale and pass away; 
For he, 't is said, can no more be, 
Who once Divinity shall see." 



WOMAN. 

O woman, thy sweet heart was framed for love, 

For with thy birth, love came from God above : 

All things, from man down to the lowliest flower, 

Receive thy tender glances, feel thy power. 

A desert dark and dry this life would be, 

but for those gentle springs thai rise in thee, 

And from thy heart Wow forth, to bless the race 

With thine and thy Creator's love and grace ; 

For all that cheers, in this our world below. 

For all the bliss that stricken mortals know, 

[•'or hope's soft sunset-light at sunset hour, 

When falling shadows round our pathway lower, 

For that which then toward 1 leaven uplifts man's brow, 

The one, the only inspiration, Thou ! 



" Pulchra filia, pulcherrimd mat re ! " 205 



SWEET SOUL, FEAR NOT! 

Sweet soul, thai dwell'st 'neath thy breasts of snow, 
And pouresl heaven-born lustre from those eyes, 
Which, like twin springs, take deep and hidden rise 
Beneath the white rock of thy Grecian brow; 
And, shining like the stars in evening's glow, 
Start from all hearts ;t Hock of love thoughts wild, 
Like young larks when the morning sun has smiled, 
Eager to bear in song, from earth below 
Thy praises upward to the angels' ears, 
1 ■'. 11 not dark Envy's harsh and carping tongue, 
Which hates the excellence it still reveres, 
\nd all bright beauty of the favored young ; 
For angels keep thee, count thy secret tears, — 
Their sister thou, through all th' eternal years. 



"PULCHRA FILIA, PULCHERRIMA MATRE!" 

Thanks, fair and patienl mother, thanks to thee 

And to our God Oi Love, in heaven above, 

Whose spirit, hovering o'er thee like his dove, 

Has, through thy thraldom's sore severity, 

Brought thee to joys of sweet maternity, 

And touched thy lips, now mute so many days, 

To sing o'er her new-born a song of praise ! 

We join om- own to thy low minstrelsy, 

With prophecy from hearts who love thee well, 

That on fair child of mother fair, must fill. 

With bloom of glowing health, I leaven's kindly spell, 

And out from Beauty's stores her grace, all, 

Since round her floats, with each new Christmas bell, 
The star-born songs of earth's glad festival. 



2o6 Sonnets. 



THE SEA-SHELL. 

Thou 'st listened, child of beauty, listened long 
To thy prophetic sea-shell's ceaseless song. 
What says it of thy future destiny? 
Sings it of wealth or hapless poverty, 
Of mated loves or wedded misery ? 

" I cannot tell," she says ; " it cries, ' Whist, whist ; ' 
It soon must speak, — hark ! now it calls, ' List, list 



> >> 



'T will say no more, sweet child ; 't is but the roar 
That breaks and echoes from th' eternal shore. 
" List, list ; whist, whist," is all thine ear can hear, 
Though thou shouldst hearken till the World's last year. 
Fling the sad shell among the waves away, 
And take life bravely, come howe'er it may ; 
The story thou wilt know, some other day. 



THE WEDDING DAY. 

Olt.ie, one night in the departed years, 

We came with smiles around thy cradle-bed, 

And shed bright flowers above thy baby head, 

And gave thee welcome to our vale of tears ; 

Dismissing from thy future, doubts and fears, 

And wishing thee but joy and tender love, 

As onward thy young years should kindly move. 

To-night, the skies again with joy are red, 

Rut warmer is thine heart, thine eyes more bright, 

For nobler love has swept into thy life 

Than thy poor little heart, on that first night, 

Could hold, though it with gentle peace was rife ; 

And so once more we come, and in Love's latest light 

We crown thee yet again, but crown thee now as wife. 



Pace. — Music. 207 



PACE. 

In peace the troubled beatings of my heart 

Went slowly and more slowly ebbing down, 

Like ocean tides when far the winds have flown, 

And golden beams from out the sunrise dart 

To bid night's ghostly darkness all depart, 

To flood both land and sea with rosy smiles, 

And fill with matin songs the forest aisles, 

While Nature throbs with joy in every part : 

So through my veins new life began to flow, 

And thrills of bliss through all my soul to creep, 

As she, the fairest one on earth I know, 

Stepped forth and said, " Sore heart, no longer weep ! 

Your frailties born of love I all forego ; 

Now take from your beloved, peace and sleep." 



MUSIC. 



The power to catch the floating notes of song, 
And weave them into hymns of harmony, 
Deep as the midnight thunder's symphony, 
Or tenderest airs that unto love belong, 
And then to bind them fast with silver thong, 
Voicing all passions of the human heart 
As each wild strain breathes its expressive part, 
While all, the blended music sweet prolong, — 
This conies a gift, indeed, from Heaven alone, 
Brought to man's brain and breast by angel-band, 
From choirs that shake the glory-girdled throne 
With tones seraphic in God's songful land ; 
Bestowed, that when Heaven's lute becomes his own, 
He then may wake it with immortal hand. 



208 Sonnets. 

TO JENNIE. 

Jennie, the rose of love now fully blooms 
Amid the verdant leaves of trustful youth ; 
The bud of hope, unfolding into truth, 
Here fills the purple air with sweet perfumes, 
As maiden friends, in showy robes and plumes, 
Come like the fairies from their forest booth 
Weaving their floral chaplets, and forsooth 
Making thee queen to him, the groom of grooms ; 
They come with benedictions and with song, 
To bless and cheer thy bark, as from the shore 
You launch for life's long voyage far away. 
May all the storms be hushed, and zephyrs throng 
Around thy sail, and kiss the dripping oar 
That bears thee out on this Love's golden day ! 



THE MICROSCOPE. 

" Ut Natura dedit, sic omnis recta figura." 

Before the mountain's towering majesty, 

The sea with its illimitable waves, 

The tempest roaring from its rocky caves, 

We stand in awe of Power's supremacy, 

And reverent bow before her sovereignty ; 

But here in thee, frail instrument, we hold 

A more than fairy- fashioned key of gold, 

That opes the boundless world Infinity, 

And helps us trace from its recondite source 

The first lace weavings of life's dawning now, 

Down through its swiftly circling onward course, 

Till man appears with thought-enshrouded brow ; 

When Science speaks, dazed by the mystic force, 

"Truly, God's own all-piercing eye art thou." 



To R. C . 209 



HIS MAJESTY THE EMPEROR OF ALL THE 

RUSSIAS. 

" Rex est qui metuit nihil." 

Strange that the man who first in all the earth 
Bears the Imperial sceptre absolute, 
Whose standard sixscore million eyes salute, 
Whose word alone gives every law its birth, 
Should find his rank and power so little worth. 
Like the wild tiger-tamer in his cage, 
His foe lies at his feet ; but latent rage, 
Ready in bloody battle to break forth, 
Denies him every claim to liberty, — 
A subject of the dread subjected thing ; 
Sovereign, but sovereign in captivity. 
Oh, happy beggar, whose free carols ring 
Beneath the walls of caged majesty, 
Compared with him, believe me, thou art King ! 



TO R. C- 



A YOUNG LAD OF MUSICAL GIFTS, ACCIDENTALLY DROWNED 

AT MACKINAW. 

Soft on a snowy bed of flowers he sleeps, 
Most musical, most happy-hearted boy, 
Whose living presence was a bounding joy ; 
Around his silent lute the white rose creeps, 
And a great multitude stands still, and weeps 
For him, whose soul, from crystal waters sped 
Up through the crystal gate, by angels led, — 



210 Sonnets. 

Heaven's own bright-pinioned, choral-voiced convoy. 

While tenderly, from viols soft below, 

A strain of plaintive music breathed farewell, 

And with the white-winged escort seemed to go ; 

So softly sweet it fell, it seemed to quell 

The sobbing grief and tearful overflow : 

Its words, " Weep not for Ray ; with him all 's well ! " 



TO R. R. B- 



" Linquenda tellus et domus." 

As when some grand, historic, ancient elm, 

Beneath whose soft and grateful summer shade 

Successive generations long have played, 

The whirling winds of Time at last o'erwhelm, 

And sweep far off from its long-honored realm, 

Both men and children halt, and tearful moan 

For shade and shelter now forever gone ; 

And as mourn sailors, stripped of sail and helm, — 

So we, on this grief-freighted, solemn day, 

Mourn for the venerated roof-tree's fall, 

And all the dreary vacancy it leaves, 

Around this silent and long-trodden hall, 

Where now the man of years with childhood grieves 

For shelter, shade, and mother-home, — fled all ! 



ittemorial Cributcs. 



MEMORIAL TRIBUTES. 



THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE. 

Come ye, whose feet old Erie kindly laves, 
And join to pour an anthem o'er her waves ; 
This day to her broad breast she calls the Free, 
And bids them welcome to her Jubilee. 

Thou stately Queen of all the lordly Lakes 
Down where Niagara's thundering chorus breaks, 
Snatch forth a strain of Nature's lofty praise, 
To swell the chant thy sister Cities raise. 
Come, thou old Erie, worthy of thy name, 
1 '.earing the trophy of thy hero's fame, — 
The fragments of that torn and shattered wreck, 
With Battle's footprints still upon the deck ; 
And thou, too, ancient " City of the Straits," 
Bring forth the guns that once assailed thy gates, 
Though rude and harmless now they seem to be, 
They once were levelled at thy liberty. 
And thou, fair Forest City, gliding from thy grove, 
Come like the swan and o'er the waters move ; 
And coy Sandusky, nestled in thy bay, 
Where lovers dream the evening hours away, 
Come with Monroe from river Raisin's shore, 
And proud Toledo, valiant as of yore ; 



214 Memorial Tributes. 

Come, grave Maumee, for years full widely known 
By heroes, and a fever all thine own ; — 
Come one, come all, young men and maidens, come, 
With streaming banners and the rattling drum, 
Extend thy peace-clad galleys far and wide, 
And deck with pennants all the heaving tide ; 
Come with your steamers, each in grand array, 
Come with glad hearts to celebrate this day, 
And loudly let the brazen cannon play ! 



'T is not of scenes at Salamis we sing, 

Nor brazen prows led by some Roman king ; 

Not Drake, who, bursting like a Northern gale 

Upon the dread Armada's myriad sail, 

Broke up and scattered on th' avenging sea 

The power that struck at Albion's liberty ; 

Nor him to whom were given the massive keys 

That first unlocked our dark Hesperian seas, 

That grand old Sea-king, sent and led of God 

To kiss with foreign keel our virgin sod ; 

Not Nelson, struggling on the bloody brine 

To carve great England's name on Ocean's shrine ; 

Nor brave Paul Jones, who scourged the English seas, 

The winged herald of our liberties ; 

Nor Lawrence, who, when life was on the slip, 

Still bravely cried, " Pray, don't give up the ship ! " 

'T is none of these whose mighty deeds we sing, 

But one to whom the Nation's heart will cling 

Till Erie rolls no wave to either shore, 

And old Niagara's voice be heard no more : 

The man who five-and-forty years ago 

1 lere, on these waves, then tinged with crimson glow, 

Mid crashing spars, and war's wild overthrow, 

Laid proud old England's blood-red pennant low. 



The Hat tic of Lake Erie. 21$ 

Let all our cities in one common hymn 
Send Perry's praise around old Erie's brim, — 
Perry the young, Perry the bold and brave, 
The Christian Hero of our common wave ! 
Let all the bugles their best music pour, 
Let all the cannon in glad triumph roar, 
And let their echoes, leaping from each shore, 
Still chime his name 
And lofty fame 
Forever and forevermore ! 

Slow creeps to birth the opening Autumn day, 

Slow breaks along the Lake his herald ray ; 

The birds not yet from out the forest raise, 

In chorus clear, their matin hymn of praise ; 

Still sleeps the duck upon the quiet flood, 

Still weeps the tinted maple of the wood ; 

Not e'en the mournful cry of waking loon 

Lias yet ascended to the sinking moon ; 

Nor night scarce lifted from the misty deep 

The sable mantle of great Nature's sleep; — 

When, circled round this lonely island-bay, 

The British hulls like drowsy dragons lay. 

Bright glow the colors round their bulwarks spread, 

Bright beams their snowy canvas overhead ; 

Softly their ensigns open on the air, 

Compact their lines, their brazen metal bare. 

" Sail ho ! Sail ho!" sounds from the masthead high, 

And through the slumbering fleet the startling cry 

Calls out from bunk and berth the ready crew, 

To find their leader's orders all in view ; 

For, see ! his signals on the dawn display, 

" The foe in sight — let all be under way ! " 

Now trumpets hoarse along the waters speak, 
And block and tackle through each vessel creak ; 



216 Memorial Tributes. 

The sailor's deep-toned chimes in chorus fall 
Responsive to the boatswain's piping call; 
As through the fleet goes up, with clam'rous joy, 
The shout, " All hands trip anchor, and ahoy l n 

Now slowly glide the vessels under way, 

And point their prows beyond the silent bay ; — 

" Yon isle, pass to the Aft/" their leader cries. 

" It is not safe/" the sailing mate replies ; 

" Then to the right! for J this very Joy 

Ant full resolved to meet the enemy /" 

And with the wind then filling up his sail, 

He leads the fleet toward War's descending gale. 

And while the vessels onward slowly drag, 

Lo ! upward mounts brave Pern's fighting flag ; 

And soon the noisy music of the drum 

Commands " All hands to quarters I" and they come. 

Sealed are the hatches, and the lint outspread 

To stanch the wounded and enshroud the dead ; 

And surgeons, with their aids, descend and wait 

For such as here may pass Death's bloody gate. 

Upon the flagship of the Royal fleet 
Stands one who erst had fought at Nelson's feet, 
Who in the bloody fight at Trafalgar 
Had bravely won an honorable scar. 
Coldly he looks (and with that high disdain 
Which Albion loves to wear when on the main) 
On that raw fleet now straggling from the bay, 
Led by a youth who on that deadly day 
First mingled in the sea-fight's wild affray. 
His vessels, framed along the wood-clad shore, 
Had scarcely dipped the wave which onward bore 
Their dauntless builder to the battle's roar. 
Young were his years, but all his bearing told 
That he a warrior's wisdom could unfold 



The Battle of Lake Eric. 217 

Whene'er the struggle of the day should come, 
And shot and shell began to thunder home. 

Slow wore the day, each captain's skilful eye 

Seeking to weather gage his enemy. 

The winds were hushed ; hushed was each sailor's breath, 

Ere the mad gnus expelled their blasts of death. 

Signals were Hashing through each battle-line, 

And gunboats dashing to obey the sign. 

Silence hung heavy o'er the emerald wave, — 

That silence which so sorely tries the brave, 

And ere it ushers in the battle-cry, 

Gives visions to the home-returning eye, 

And whispers to each heart, What if thou die/ 

Or like the hurricane's mysterious hush 

That sleeps upon the air, before the rush 

Of overturning winds, and tempest blast 

Which down to earth both tower and turret cast. 

Eight bells had pealed the full meridian hour 

As battle's gloomy front began to lower. 

Set were the sails, set every sailor's lip, 

On board each fair and slow-advancing ship ; 

And with the proper range, each crew now runs 

Through every port-hole all the black-mouthed guns. 

From out the rigging, as their vision cleared, 

The eager look-outs with their glasses peered. 

" What see 'st in yon fleet 7" the Briton cries. 

" I see the crew at prayers" a tar replies. 

" At prayers /" says one, with mocking laugh and jeer, 

" Pd rather hear the rebels curse ami swear/" 

" At prayers /" another said ; "such men I fear: 

Perhaps the Nation's God those prayers max hear, 

And zvoe to those who meet His glittering spear ! " 

Closer, still closer, creep the squadrons on ; 
Nearer, yet nearer, frowns the shotted gun ; 



2i8 Memorial Tributes. 

And now the sea-bird's wild, prophetic scream, 
As o'er the waves his snowy pinions gleam, 
A moment starts each palpitating crew, 
And bids all hearts express the last adieu- 
Rut see that silver wreath of curling smoke, — 
'T is Barclay's gun ! The silence now is broke. 
Champlin, with rapid move and steady eye, 
Sends back in thunder-tones a bold reply. 
Another gun ! another thunders out, 
And hark ! there goes the British battle-shout, 
And hark again ! above the pealing roar, 
" Close order, men! let slip the dogs of war I " 
'T is Perry's trumpet speaks, and through the fleet 
His guns, unmuzzled, pour their iron sleet, 
And soon, with battle's blaze, begin to heat. 
" Close action " was the order of the day, 
And down mid gathering smoke and fire and spray 
The " Lawrence " fearless holds her deadly way. 

Bravely she met the storm of iron hail 

That swept her decks and splintered every rail ; 

Three hostile vessels, crowding hard and fast, 

Poured through her bulwarks war's destructive blast ; 

And as each spar and brace and bowline fell, 

And men lay shattered by the crashing shell, 

She seemed almost the very prey of Hell ! 

Muzzle to muzzle still she poured her fire, 

Though every minute saw a life expire ; 

And when unbroken limbs had ceased to be, 

And none remained erect on foot or knee, 

The wounded men came crawling from below 

To pull a rope or let a lanyard go. 

One gun was left upon her starboard side, — 

'T was all she had to stem war's dreadful tide ; 



The Battle of Lake Erie. 219 

This Perry seized, and with a lighted brand 
Discharged a shot with his ensanguined hand, — 
For now, alas ! the scuppers held most all his bleeding band ! 

Stripped of her spars, and shorn of every sail, 
The " Lawrence " lay a wreck before the gale ; 
Her guns disabled, and without a crew, 
What could her still unconquered captain do ? 
He yields to Yarnall his poor shattered wreck. 
And points his way toward the "Niagara's" deck; 
Behold, he leaves the vessel's splintered side, 
To drive his boat across the bloody tide. 
With flag in hand and close-compressed lip, 
He tells brave Yarnall, " Don't give up the ship ! " 
Then bids the coxswain let the painter slip. 
Now bolt upright he stands, although the sky 
Seems raining leaden bullets on his way ; 
Until his men, all over-anxious grown, 
Among the stern-sheets drag the Hero down. 

The gantlet passed, now all his sailors' eyes 

Turn to the ship where his proud ensign flies ; 

Then, louder than the roaring cannon's voice, 

They lift the cheer, and with glad hearts rejoice ; 

For though around him War's dread volley flew, 

The God of battle safely led him through, — 

Gave to his hand another gallant craft, 

And sent a breeze his onward way to waft. 

A moment more, and on he wildly drives, 

While all his battle-thirst again revives. 

Grand as Leonidas at Thermopylae, 

1 )ashed now our I rero on the enemy ; 

Full armed, once more in thunderbolts he fills, 

And polirs his broadside on their wooden walls ; 

The gunboats roar along his bloody wake, 

And, like young demons, rend the lines they break. 



Mem Tributes. 

Flash after dash his fatal lightnings shone, 
Crash after crash he brings their canvas down : 
Groan after groan succeeded every gun, 
Moan followed moan, until the work was done, — 
./ squadron lost, and Perry's victory -v. 

\ es ! the great battle now at List is done ! 
Hushed are the shoutings, hushed is every gun ; 
Down mn the ensigns of great England's might, 
Down drops her star athwart the gloomy night ! 
Brave Barclay, fainting at his sore defeat, 
His sword surrenders, with his broken fleet ; 
While upward leap the glorious stripes and stars. 
And well adorn the Briton's shattered spars. 
I .mhI shout our heroes at each heated gun, 
■• . / battle ii/iJ a name this day is won, 
. tnd England's triumph on ///<• sea is done I " 

Brave Perry, gathering now the victor's spoils. 

Sadly and slowly toward the harbor toils; 

Bright were his eyes, though sad his pensive mood, 
As he beheld his scuppers run with Mood ; 
Or saw afloat upon the crimsoned wave 
Some face that e'en in death revealed a brave. 
Mis heart was tender, and he mourned the death 
( >i those who sen ed him w ith their latest breath ; 

And with a tear and prayer Ins dead he lay 

Within the shade of this sweet island bay, 
And here, through Autumn's melancholj days, 

l Mil Erie sobs, and chants their endless praise. 

Here. too. the toe in slow procession come. 
With wailing trumpets and with muffled drum ; 

The plaintive music sweeps the harbor's walls. 

And out upon the lake its echo falls, 

Where War's dark cloud still hugs the trembling wave, 

And spreads her mantle o'er the sailor's grave ; 



The Battle of Lake Erie. i M 

While ever) soldier, every sailor heart, 
Forgets his flag, and acts out Nature's pari ; 
Walks slowly by the rude but bannered bier, 

Ami five's his lor the honest warrior's tear. 

And there beneath yon willow's waving bough, 
The iocs of yesterday are brothers now. 

This day from Lake-washed cities here wo throng 

To raise anew the chivalrous battle SOng, 

To see again the battering squadron's flame, 
Again to hear the cannon loud proclaim 
Their thundering paeans to great Perry's name, — 
To meet the remnants of his glorious band, 
And grasp, with more than grateful hand, 

Champlin and Blair, Brownell and Parsons pure ! 
Long may their waning strength and years endure ! 
New generations here this day we see, 
With brilliant pomp and gay festivity, 

With lute and tablet and the vocal chime, 
That rings far down the avenues of Time, 
With brazen trump and clanging drum and bell, 
In soul-refreshing strains again to tell 

1 low well. 
How bravely well, 

( heat Perry stood 

When shot and shell 

Around him fell, 
And vexed and seethed old Erie's peaceful Hood, 
And AxcA hei emerald waves with Valor's precious blood 

But more ! we come this day, with grateful thanks, 

To crown this classic Island's wooded banks, 
With broad foundation stones, on which to rear 
The thrilling record of that glorious year, — 
To write on high old Erie's naval story. 
And give to God and Perry, all the glory I 



222 Memorial Tributes. 

Yes ! let the Monumental shaft arise 

Above these forest boughs and greet the skies ; 

Here let the woodland birds each morning raise 

To Perry and his braves their hymn of praise. 

Here let the Nation come with each glad year, 

And yield this dust the tributary tear ; 

Here wreathe the Autumn cup, and loud proclaim 

Fresh honors to our Hero's honored name ; 

Here chant how Man the very hates can bend 

By bravely persevering to the en J. 

'Twas this that won for Perry his renown. 

Tis this that plucks from Tyranny her crown. 

'T is this that saves our flag on Land and Sea, 

And girds with sentinels of Liberty 

This teeming land, — God keep it ever free ! 

Then let us semi the towering shaft on high. 

To court new blessings from each morning sky; 

To teach our rising youth, on land and flood, 

That Liberty is worthy of their blood ; 

And on its tablet write, in boldest line, 

Those words that round this Lake should ever shine. 

That modest message of our Hero's pen, — 

Long may it live among our naval men. 

Long gleam from all our armed forts and towers, — 

" We've met the em my. and they are ours!" 



Mote. — Capt. Stephen Champlin of the United Slates Navy, and 
one of the participants in the battle, wrote the author on Nov. 8, 1858, 
(li.it the above poem " in all its essentials is one of the must perfect 
accounts of the battle that I have ever had the pleasure of listening to, 
or reading," etc. Capt. Thomas Brownell, also of the United States 
Navy, and a participant in the fight, wrote the author from Newport, 
R. I., on Dec. 7. 1858, as follows : " 1 said, at the elose of the reading 
by you of your beautiful poem, that it was the most graphic descrip- 
tion of the battle and its incidents that 1 had ever heard reail or 
sung, and for which I on the spot tendered you my thanks." Dr. 



First Decoration Day. 223 



FIRST DECORATION DAY. 
soldiers' memorial dirge and chorus. 

Bring garlands, rosy garlands, 

And strew these grassy graves; 
For heroes here are sleeping, 
Where Liberty stands weeping 

For the bravest of her braves. 

Bring (lowers, fragrant flowers 

From offspring's dewy breast, 
For those who through the battle 
Passed down, mid war's wild rattle, 

To the soldier's glorious rest. 

Bring amaranthine flowers 

From Fame's far-shining crest ; 
For martyrs here lie crowded, 
In the Nation's flag enshrouded, 

With its glory on each breast. 

Bring music, plaintive music, 

And pour it on the air ; 
But check, oh check the bugle's cry, 
And hush the snare-drum's wild reply, 

Through these quiet aisles of prayer. 

Usher Parsons, Surgeon of the United States Navy, expressed him 
self to like effect in respect to the accuracy of the incidents narrated, 
and their "felicitous presentation." These references from those who 
were part of the battle are here made in order to strengthen the his- 
toric value of the narrative. 



224 Memorial Tributes. 

Bring tears and sobbing bosoms, 

And press them on each grave ; 
For widowed wives and mothers 
Bewail these soldier brothers, 
And a hallowed memory crave. 

Bring laurel-woven garlands, 

And crown these mounds of love, 

For the sword is now laid by ; 

The conqueror passed on high, 
To his welcome far above. 

Bring our Country's peerless banner, 

And dip it to the grave, 
That the spirits here who sleep, 
Once more in joy may leap 
To the Flag they died to save. 



CHORUS. 



tune: America. 



Then with the flowers we bring, 
Let vocal tributes ring 

O'er these brave dead, 
Till from each rocky shore, 
Wide o'er each valley's floor 
Round every cottage door, 

Garlands are spread. 



High o'er each waving crest 
These words their faith expressed, 
"In God we trust; " 



Epitaph. 225 



And now the victory 's won, 
And every war-cloud flown, 
Let all kneel humbly down, 
Blessing their dust. 

Let chiming voices tell 
How these true soldiers fell, 

In Battle's line ; 
And through our ensign grand, 
Feared now in every land, 
Wide as its folds expand, 

These names entwine. 

God bless the soldier brave, 
God keep each honored grave, 

While Time shall roll ; 
And when his trumpet calls, 
Rending death's granite walls, 
As earth's last curtain falls, 

God save the soul ! 



EPITAPH. 

I ask not that the graver's skill 
Should proudly deck my place of rest, 
Nor that a cold and vaulted tomb 
Should bar the sunbeams from my breast ; 
But simply that my grave be green, 
And sometimes watered by a tear, 
And that at last one friend may say 
A loyal heart lies crumbling here. 



226 Memorial Tributes. 



LINES 



written on hearing the announcement of general 
taylor's death. 



Furl now the flag, and tearful bind 
Around its glorious stripes and stars 

The sable badge that bids us wail 
The veteran of a hundred wars ; 
Furl now the flag ! 

Lay by the sword, his noble sword, 
Refulgent with bright glory's rays ; 

No longer shall it lead the van, 
No more its blade in battle blaze ; 
Lay by the sword ! 

Set loose the steed whose shining neck 
Was clothed with thunder for his foes ; 

No more his master holds the rein, 
While fiery red his nostril glows ; 
Set loose the steed ! 



Peal loud the bell, a nation mourns 
Its hero and its much-loved head, — 

From shore to shore, hark ! how it sounds, - 
" Brave Taylor sleeps among the dead ; " 
Then peal the bell ! 



Our Dead. 

God, hear our cry, desert us not, 
In this the hour of fear and gloom, 

But bind us nearer, closer still, 

And save us from disunion's doom ; 
Oh, hear our cry ! 

Then furl the flag, and peal the bell, 
Death deals a mighty blow to-day ; 

But while our flag reveals one star, 
Brave Taylor's fame shines in its ray ; 
Yet, furl the flag ! 



227 



OUR DEAD. 

The world rolls on, the seasons die, 

And oft the roses fall, 
And like them our departed ones 

Respond not to our call. 

Oh, would I were where they are now, 
Where they have been for years, — 

The land where night no more descends, 
The land where fall no tears. 

When, when shall these blue heavens part, 

And I their glory see ? 
Oh, when shall my dead children dear 

Reveal themselves to me ? 

In dreams I sometimes seem to greet 

Each fair one's diadem, — 
Ah no ! they cannot come to me, 

But I shall go to them. 



228 Memorial Tributes. 



SONG OF THE BRADY GUARDS 

AT THEIR FORTIETH REUNION, APRIL, 1S76. 

Tune: " Will ye na come back again ? " 

Brady Comrades, scattered far 
Over hill and sea and plain, 
With the night's ascending star 
Are we all come hack again? 
Chorus. Are we all come hack again ? 
Are we all come hack again ? 
Better friends men never were ; 
Are we all come hack again? 



'&■ 



Attention, Bradys, hearken now; 

Though the duty seem but vain, 
Hearken to our sergeant's call, 
" Bradys, are ye hack again ? " 
Chorus. Have ye all come hack again ? 
Have ye all come hack again ? 
Answer to your names each one, 
Have ye all come back again ? 

"Dead ! " and " Missing ! " we respond, 

Many on the field lie slain ; 
Camping on the heights beyond, 
They will ne'er come hack again. 
Chorus. No, they '11 ne'er come hack again, 
No, they '11 ne'er come back again. 
Noblest of all the noble they, 
But they '11 ne'er come hack again. 



Song of the Brady Guards. 229 

Though they live, or sleeping lie 

'Neath the sod or roaring main, 
This we know, — their Country's flag 
Ne'er from them received a stain. 
Chorus. Then, though they ne'er come back again, 
Though they ne'er come back again, 
What care they in their long sleep, 
Though they ne'er come back again ? 

Time has touched our locks with gray ; 

Ah, how few of us remain ! 
Yet with joy we hail this day, 

Glad that we 've come back again. 
Chorus. Glad that we 've come back again ; 
Glad, e'en though our ranks be thin, 
And " Hail and farewell ! " our refrain, 
Still glad that we 've come back again. 

Then, Brady Comrades, ere we part, 

Marching on our last campaign, 
Hand to hand and heart to heart, 
Let us bless our flag again. 
Chorus. Bless the grand old flag again, 

Bless it ere the drum-beat's * strain 
Break our ranks and close the scene, 
For then we '11 ne'er come back again. 

Final Chorus. No, we '11 ne'er come back again, 
No, we '11 ne'er come back again ; 
Sentinelled on starry plain, 
We shall ne'er come back again. 

1 " Let the drum beat ; my knapsack is slung," were the last words 
of Gen. Hugh Brady. 



230 Memorial Tributes. 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 

From out old ocean's broad and heaving breast 

There comes a wail profound, 
And now on autumn winds, from east to west, 

It pours its dirge-like sound. 

From all New England's heaven-pointing spires 
Peals forth each mournful bell ; 

And, like the music of a thousand choirs, 
Their plaintive chimings swell. 

New Hampshire's giant mountains all are hung 

In heaven's dark drapery, 
And o'er our eagle's path a cloud is flung 

That drives him from the sky. 

Fast by the altars that our fathers laid, 

A Nation pours her grief, 
And round the brow of weeping man and maid, 

Is wreathed the cypress leaf. 

For, lo ! the great American is gone, 
Gone from his pen and shield ; 

And now the Constitution stands alone, 
His pen no hand can wield. 

Well may the ocean lift his plaintive cry, 

And autumn winds their wail ; 
Well may the bells with echoes fill the sky, 

And hills their tops enveil. 

Well may our eagle pause amid his flight, 

And all the people weep ; 
For he who climbed the Nation's proudest height 

Lies wrapped in death's cold sleep. 



A Laurel for the Bier of Stanton. 231 

Yes, weep ; but while our Country's altars last 

Or stars shall gem the sea, 
The name of Webster, like the trumpet's blast, 

Shall henceforth be 
A glorious watchword to the free, 

The harbinger of victory. 

Nov. 1, 1S52. 



A LAUREL FOR THE BIER OF STANTON. 1 

Well may fair Freedom drape her flag, 
Well pour her tears without control ; 

And well may War's grim guns once more 
O'er hill and vale their echoes roll. 

For that brave heart whose tidal wave 
Through all our wild dissolving storm 

Still upward bore our ark of hope, 
Sleeps now within a lifeless form. 

Not Battle's wail nor Victory's shout 

Again that silent dust shall wake ; 
The conqueror lies conquered now, 

He dies for his dear Country's sake. 

As some fair shaft in temple aisle 
Falls suddenly with crashing sound, 

Commingling shrine and altar pile, 
In ruin sad, o'er holy ground ; 

1 " It is ordered by the President that the Executive Mansion, the 
several departments at Washington, and the national standard be 
draped in mourning. 

" It is ordered by the Secretary of War that the offices of the War 
Department be draped in mourning for a period of thirty days, and 
on the day after the receipt of this order at each military post, fifteen 
guns be fired at appropriate intervals, commencing at meridian." 



232 Memorial Tributes. 

So this strong pillar 'neath our dome 
Dropped sadly in the dead of night, 

And down through all its corridors 
Men stand in tears before the sight. 

But soon another shaft shall rise, 

To form of thousand angels wrought, 

And through their lifted trumps of fame 
The world shall hear this holy thought : 

" Brave men who fall to save the State, 

America will ne'er let die, 
But ever and forever speak 

Their praises to the rolling sky." 

So through the ages yet to pass, 

Lincoln's and Stanton's names shall stand, 
Symbols of love and loyalty 

To Freedom, Truth, and Native Land. 

Dec. 25, 1869. 



THE GATES OF DAY. 

The moon was slow declining, 
And the stars all softly shining, 

O'er the world that silent lay, 
When God's angels robed in white 
Came down in shining light, 

To lift the gates of day. 

Down where sad hearts were throbbing, 
To the Lake-side's plaintive sobbing, 
They saw dark-winged Death 



The Gates of Day. 



JO 



By the bedside of a maiden, 
Fair as one born of Eden, 
Striving to hush her breath. 

From lips then feebly closing 
Dropped words her wish disclosing, — 

" Hymns, mother, sing me hymns ! " 
But her mother cannot sing 
'Neath the shadow of that wing 

Which mortal vision dims. 

But she murmurs in her ear 
The strains she loved to hear, — 

A sweet, sad prayer for rest, 
And that ere the morning's dawn, 
She might from earth be gone, 

To wake on Jesus' breast. 

Through the stillness of the scene 
Those bright angels intervene, 

And kiss the pallid brow ; 
And the heavenly presence there 
On the gently waving air 

That mother seems to know. 

"Too pure," she hears them saying, 
" This maiden sweetly praying, 

Too pure for earth by far ; 
Let us bear her in our arms, 
Far away from Death's alarms, 

Homeward to yonder star. 

" No pain shall there annoy her ; 
There Death can ne'er destroy her, 
And tears are never known ; 



234 Memorial Tributes. 

And the hymns for which she calls 
She shall hear beyond earth's walls, 
From seraphs near the throne." 



So the angels' gentle hands 
Loose the struggling spirit's bands, 

As it strives to break away ; 
And upward through the sky, 
They bear that soul on high, 
Halting only, as they fly 

To ope the Gates of Day. 



MEMORIAL TRIBUTE. 

Bright boy, 
In the purple glow of thy manly youth, 

Thy locks still fresh with its early dew, 
And thy soft eyes clear as the wells of truth, 
And thy heart as pure as the zenith's blue, 
Mid the solemn chimes 
Of the bell's sad rhymes, 
We pour our tears, as we mourn for you. 

We mourn the silence of thy full young heart, 

Within thy circle's wide companionship, 
Where truth alone, without one trick of art. 
Graced the clear utterance of thy silver lip ; 
And now sore-smitten boys 
Have buried all their joys, 
And long through death for thy dear fellowship. 



Memorial Tribute. 235 

Nor words alone were thine, fond boy ! bright deeds 

Hung through thy life in clustering blossoms fair, 
And in the woods, the waves, or marshy reeds 
Thy hand was ready every toil to share ; 
To rescue or uphold, 
Or kindly to enfold, 
The weary one, with fond, fraternal care. 

With thee it seemed — and so we sometimes dreamed — 

The heavenly angels oft were wont to walk, 
For through thy converse mild sometimes there beamed 
Such golden thoughts as fall where angels talk ; 
And now we know they came, 
And called thee by thy name, 
And thou hast gone with them through Heaven to walk. 

Alas, that life so noble and so pure, 

So high resolved for actions brave and true, 
Should find its torch reversed, its flame obscure, 
Ere yet its light is lifted into view ! 
Sad sight, when gloomy pall 
And leaden ashes fall 
On cheeks where all the vernal roses grew. 

But thou art fled, bright spirit of our love ! 

Thy wings have broken through the curtains blue, 
And revelling with the sinless throng above, 
Thy native virtues all are born anew. 
Yet still 
Mid these solemn chimes 
Of the bell's sad rhymes, 
We mourn, oh, how we mourn for you, 

Bright youth, 
Oh, how we mourn for you ! 



236 Memorial Tributes. 



MOTHER. 

ON THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF HER DEATH. 

A year the sod has pressed thy breast, 
A year thy heart has been at rest, 
A year thy life been with the blest, 
And heaven thy happy home. 

Yet still my heart cries out for thee ; 
Oh, how I long thy face to see, 
For oft thy step seems near to me, 
As o'er thy paths I roam ! 

Close by my side in viewless air 
I feel thy presence surely near, 
I know that thou art walking where 
My footsteps also stray. 

And when in darkness oft I stand, 
I feel assured thy soft, warm hand, 
With some sweet whisper or command, 
Will lead me to the day. 

For thou dost come to me in dreams, — 
How lifelike each dear visit seems ! — 
And tarriest till the morning's beams 
Wake me to life and tears. 

Oh, canst thou not refresh my sight, 
In some sweet vision of the night, 
With that dear face of love and light 
Which shone through all my years ? 



Willie s Death and Burial. 237 

Fear not lest I might start with fear 
To greet thee on this lower sphere ; 
Ah no ! I 'd gladly meet thee here 
At any cost to me. 

But if my heart is not to know 
This holy joy again below, 
Will not the Lord this grace bestow, 
That thou my angel be ? 

Then shall I walk without a fear, 
For at my side thou wilt be near, 
To warn, to comfort, and to cheer, 
O mother of my love. 

And when my weary work is done, 
The battle fought, the victory won, 
Thy hand will be the swiftest one 
To welcome me above. 



Sunday Evening, Nov. 3, 1872. 



WILLIE'S DEATH AND BURIAL. 

In the closing hours 

Of the Summer day, 
Through the gate of flowers, 
Angels came 
And called his name, 
And led our boy away. 

Arching his smooth path 
Round about with bloom, 

Far they drove off death, 
Far they shunned his tomb. 



238 Memorial Tributes. 

Opening through the green, 
We saw the marble gate, 

The gate that stands between 
This and the heavenly state. 

Thus through the verdant spray 
Of rose and violet 

They led our boy away 
In time of sweet sunset. 



So in bloom of lily's 

White or scarlet flame, 
While we longer stay, 

We shall read his name, 
Our boy Willie's ; 

For whom angels came 
And in sunset hours 
Through the gate of flowers 
Led him, 

Yes led him to heaven, 
But very far away. 



And yet if he be there, 
And oft an angel here, 
Where loved ones are, 

We may not say 
That heaven is far, 

So very far away. 



Our Genevieve. 239 



OUR GENEVIEVE. 



AN ELEGY. 



Oh, dark as midnight is this day in June, 

The light from every rose and lily fled, 
Discordant only Music's sweetest tune, — 

For Genevieve, our Genevieve, is dead. 

Beauty of purest pearl shone in her face, 

Soft as an angel's every word she said, 
And grace was hers like that of royal race, — 

But Genevieve, fair Genevieve, is dead. 

Her faith was like to that of holiest saint, 

With heaven's bright aureole shining round her head ; 
Her farewell smile was peace, when friends were faint, — 

For Genevieve, sweet Genevieve, was dead. 

Alas for hopes that perish all to-day, — 

The bright career for which her soul was bred, — 

This storm of sorrow sweeps them far away, 
Since Genevieve, bright Genevieve, is dead. 

But still our hearts refuse her to the grave, 
Refuse belief that she with Death has wed, 

For beauty such as hers the Angels have, — 
No, no, our Genevieve cannot be dead. 

Perhaps some herald swift dropped down to earth, 
And set a crown immortal on her head, 

Translating her at once to heavenly birth, 

And Genevieve still lives, and ne'er was dead. 



240 Memorial Tributes. 

Yet, dark as midnight is this day in June, 
The light from every rose and lily fled ; 

And song birds all, in harsh discordant tune, 
Insist that Genevieve indeed is dead. 

God pity us, God help us while we grieve ! 
T is Genevieve we mourn, dear Genevieve ! 



DIRGE FOR PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 
Sept. 26, 1S81. 



Toll, 
Ay, toll, ye mournful bells, 
A world-wide passing knell ; 
Toll for a hero's soul. 

Drape 
And sadly drop the flag 
Half mast o'er land and sea, 
And bind each door with crape. 

Weep, 
Ye stricken people, weep 
Around the hallowed bier 
Of Garfield's silent sleep. 

Great, 
Sublimely great and brave, 
Was this, our chosen chief, 
In battle or debate. 



Dirge for President Garfield. 24 1 

Love, 
Whole-souled, deep love, was his, 
For country, home, and truth, 
Like to that love above. 

Write 
Amid the stars and stripes, 
Write high his worthy name ; 

'T will make the stars more bright. 

Praise, 
Yes, praise the Lord on high, 
For all he was to us, 

While heavenward we gaze. 

Well, 
" He doeth all things well," 
For age to distant age 

His name and fame shall tell. 

Fears ? 
No, not one fear for him, 
Nor for our smitten land, 
Though flood-like fall our tears. 

Toll, 

Yes, toll, ye mournful bells, 

And roll, ye muffled drums ; 

Farewell, O noble soul, 

Farewell ! 



242 Memorial Tributes. 



CHRISTMAS, 1888. 
" Doleo te, frater mi." 

Strange silence seals the Christmas sky 
Which once with angel voices rang, 

When " Peace on earth, good-will to men " 
Composed the hymn the cherubs sang. 

Why, then, may I not rend the heavens 
And find the paths my brother walks ; 

Discern his high companionship, 
The lofty souls with whom he talks ? 

Yes, I would fain in spirit leap 
Up and afar through yonder skies, 

See him for whom my heart still yearns, 
Seize his warm hand, and search his eyes ; 

Hear his mild voice in loving tone 

Again call my familiar name, 
And tell me what his soul has learned 

Since to those distant climes he came ; 

Would know if still he looks far down 
Upon the friends once loved below, 

And if up where his soul now dwells 
He fain would have them rise and go. 

Why speaks he not from those high spheres? 

Why silent still the Christmas sky? 
God knows ; but this is all it says, — 
" To find our dead, we too must die." 



Florence's Farewell. 243 



FLORENCE'S FAREWELL. 

Good mother-earth from which we spring. 
Kind mother-earth to whom we go, 
Who lovest all thy children so, 
And hast a place for all who fall 
In life's wild strife or sorrow's thrall, 

Be gentle now to her we bring. 

Be gentle as young mothers are 
To the first babe they rock to rest, 
Soft pillowed on love's yearning breast : 
Come open now thy bosom mild, 
And take to thine embrace this child, 

Who leaves us as a falling star ; 

Fading and falling from our skies, 
But with a radiance calm and bright, 
That glorifies the noonday light, 
And tells us that an angel fair 
Has smiled upon her from the air 

And kindled heaven within her eyes. 

An angel fair indeed is nigh 

To lead her homeward to her rest, 
To yield the sweet familiar breast 
On which that fond young head may lay 
At close of her first golden day ; — 

It is her mother from the sky. 



244 Memorial Tributes. 

And hand in hand the two ascend 
To scenes beyond all mortal thought, 
But scenes with joy forever fraught. 
No more for them the funeral bell 
In mansions where those spirits dwell. 
We catch their song in soft refrain. 
And hear this one sweet simple strain, 

"All sorrow's clays here have an end ; " 
So, Florence, while we weep farewell, 
Our faith sobs forth, " 'T is well, 'tis well." 



LINES 



WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF HENRY CLAY. 

Ho ! all ye people, lift your voice, 

And pour your grief like rain-drops free, 

Till distant nations hear the wail 
In plaintive sobbings of the sea. 

Let every harp be steeped in tears, 

And Sorrow's hand sweep each sad string, 

Till through each cabin, cot, and hall 
Their mournful requiems shall ring. 

Pale Freedom veils her face and weeps, 
Since now is hushed a clarion voice, 

That oft has cheered her drooping frame, 
And bade her sinking heart rejoice. 



Lines on the Death of Gen. Hugh Brady. 245 

Great Clay, the silver-tongued, is gone, 
With all earth's noblest virtues crowned, 

The echo of whose glorious name 

Down through all time shall long resound. 

As when the sun in golden garb 
Goes down the sky at close of day, 

So sank his spirit to its rest, 

While floods of glory bathed the way. 

Along our flag a shadow rests, 

A cloud upon our Councils falls ; 
His arm that flag had lifted high, 

His wisdom lit those Council halls. 

Ah, who can cheer our aching hearts, 
What sun light up our gloomy day? 

The story of our grief, how great ! 
The land has lost her Henry Clay ! 



LINES 

WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF BREVET MAJOR-GENERAL 
HUGH BRADY. 

A woe is on the Nation's soul, 

And soldier-hearts are sad and sore, 

As through the land the tidings roll, 
" Our gallant Brady is no more." 

Upon his strong and noble frame 
The hand of Time had gently pressed, 

And vigorous youth still seemed enthroned 
In all her pride upon his breast. 



246 Memorial Tributes. 

Through twice a score of weary years 
His sword hung ever on his thigh, 

And down to life's last tranquil hour 
He never passed a duty by. 

In the red battle's fiercest blaze 

He bravely bathed his conquering blade, 

And fearless dashed against the foe, 

While war's fierce hail around him played. 

His virtues shining clear and bright 
Full long adorned his honored life, 

And all his private walks and ways 
With generous deeds were ever rife. 

The eyes of all who knew the man 
Read virtue in his very name, 

And 'neath his bold and searching glance 
Dishonor hid her head in shame. 

But fife, nor drum, no more shall wake 
The warrior from his dreamless sleep ; 

Life's battle fought, the victory won, 
His feet now press Fame's proudest steep. 

Then kindly wrap the Nation's flag 
Around the hero's honored clay, — 

Fit shroud for Soldier such as he, 
Who knew no joy save in its ray. 

And manly eyes may weep to-day, 
As sinks the patriot to his rest ; 

The Nation held no truer heart 

Than that which beat in Brady's breast. 



©e tfintfwjS. 



DE FINIBUS. 



LX. 

' Eheu fugaces, posthume, posthume, labuntur anni." 

And can it be that Time to-day 

Rolls up my years to full threescore, 

And youth and schemes of life all lay 

Within Time's locked and brazen door, - 
For me, no more, no more ? 

My heart is not yet faint, nor worn 
By all its countless pulses past, 

But beats, as in life's ruddy morn, 
Full strong, and every whit as fast ; 
Will it not last, not last ? 

And Nature greets me just the same 
As when I ranged, a hopeful boy, 

Free from her treasure-house to claim 
Whatever flowery charm or toy 
Gave hint of peace or joy. 

Thanks, Nature, for thy love so pure, 
So constant, cordial, and so strong ! 

Of this one thing let me be sure, 

That thou its warmth wilt still prolong, 
Though life be short or long. 



250 Dc Finibus. 

Then, as my thoughts through coming years 
On res de finibus must dwell, 

I '11 make no plaint, and pour no tears, 
For under Nature's loving spell 
All will be well, right well. 

And when the parting hour shall come, 
And I from earth shall take my way, 

She '11 lead me to her higher home, 
Where all earth's beauty fades away 
In the New Day, God's Day. 

God's day, — all days are his, I know, 
And he it is who with me talks, 

Through her named Nature here below, 
And He it is who with me walks 
And smiles where daisies blow. 

Then whatsoe'er my lot or years, 
In God's own kindly hands am I ; 

So hence all earth-born doubts and fears, 
For life is sure while He is nigh, 
On earth or in the sky ! 



THE CHILDREN'S LYRIC AT THE GOLDEN 

WEDDING. 

The golden dial of our home 

To-day marks fifty years, 
And golden stars from far above 

Drop down their dewy tears 
Of light and love, — 



The Children's Lyric at the Golden Wedding. 251 

Of light and love, for here still stand, 

Fast by the old hearthstone, 
The pair who once in love's bright land, 

Away in years long gone, 
Pledged heart and hand. 

" Father " and " Mother," sacred words, 

Still linger on our lips, 
Although their moon its golden horn 

Through silver cloudlets dips, 
Weary and worn, — 

Weary and worn, but youthful yet, 

In life of heart and brain, 
And fresh with every household grace, 

As meadows after rain 
Make bright their face. 

And now by silver sands they halt, 

And o'er life's silver sea 
The sun-burst of a golden day 

Lights up their jubilee, 
While children pray — 

That still their golden years may run, 

And golden wisdom fall, 
Like honey dropping from the comb, 

Or fruit from sunny wall, 
To bless each home ; 

To bless and shield us till the day 

Our pinioned feet shall rise, 
And tread with them the heavenly coast 
Beyond these golden skies, 
In glory lost. 
1867. 



252 De Finibus. 



THE "HOUSE NOT MADE WITH HANDS." 



Tell me, ye choral angel bands, 

What is that " house not made with hands " 

That waits for me on high? 
What are those mansion-homes of rest, 
Which Christ hath by his presence blest, 

And reared above the sky ? 

My panting soul aspires to know 
Whither the heavenly pathways go, 

That lead God's children home ? 
And where is Christ, who says that He 
Shall dwell with them in unity 

Somewhere in yon far dome ? 

Say, is it field, or cloud, or grove, 

Through which their joy-winged feet shall rove, 

In glorious company ? 
Or is it palace, throne, or hall, 
With Christ's own glory over all, 

Ennobling God's nobility? 

Is Christ himself the throne and crown, 
The New Jerusalem come down, 

This " house not made with hands " ? 
The mansion, and the home of rest, 
The open door, the welcome breast, 

The haven of all lands ? 



The ** House not made with Hands" 253 

And when He in his kingdom comes, 
Has He within himself these homes, 

Where love all fear expels, 
And where each entering soul shall be 
Absorbed in His sweet sanctity, 

As He with God indwells ? 

Say, as the swift descending stone, 
That from the precipice is thrown, 

Hastes to the valley's grove, 
Do our freed spirits loosed from earth 
Mount upward to their heavenly birth 

By Christ's attracting love ? 

Oh, happy thought, that Christ's pure heart 
Shall through the mystic Builder's art 

Become the saint's last home ! 
That through His eyes, His feet, His soul, 
The currents of our life shall roll, 

As springs through Ocean roam. 

Then hush, my soul, forbear below 

To solve what here thou canst not know, 

This " house not made with hands ; " — 
But soon the Lord from out the sky 
Will touch with light your earth-clad eye 

In glory-clouded lands- 
Then shalt thou see, and joyful share, 
As Christ shall meet you in the air, 

The secret of His home ; 
To thine own mansion set apart 
He shall conduct your happy heart, 

No more from Him to roam. 



254 -De Finibus. 



THE AGED CHRISTIAN'S PRAYER. 



Old and seared, 

Worn and wearied 
With the weight of years, I come ; 

My only care, 

My only prayer, 
" Come, Lord Jesus, take me home ! " 

Earth's joys are dead, 

Life's hopes are fled 
Like the ocean's wasted foam, 

And every sigh 

Breathes forth the cry, 
" Come, Lord Jesus, take me home ! " 

With friends all gone, 

With work all done, 
Only Heavenward would I roam ; 

Then, oh ! make glad 

This heart so sad, 
"And come, Lord Jesus, take me home ! 



Easter, 1889. 255 



EASTER, 1889. 

Great bells are ringing, 

And choirs are singing, 
And pious nuns salute the sun, 

Since Christ is risen 

From death's dark prison, 
And Heaven's redemptive work begun. 

Church towers are shining, 

And roses twining 
Round altars, where of late were none, 

For Christ is risen 

From death's dark prison, 
And life, eternal life, is won. 

Sad souls are voicing 

The day's rejoicing, 
Far as the stars their courses run, 

For Christ has risen 

From death's dark prison, 
God's chosen and all-conquering Son ! 

And earth replying 

To angels flying, 
Where'er her tides and rivers run, 

Shout, " Christ is risen 

From death's dark prison, 
And Heaven's redeeming work is done ! " 



256 De Fitiibus. 



VALE ! 

Oh, voiceful lake and smiling lawn, 

Beautiful sunsets, dewy dawn, 

Roses and lilies, bright and fair 

As angel wings that haunt the air, 

Meadows of bloom, and burdened vines, 

Whispering cedars and moaning pines, 

Mystic reach of the winds and waves, 

From rock-girt shores and pebbled caves ; 

Birds of sweet song, and voice of rills, 

Silence of everlasting hills, 

Mountains with majesty high-crowned, 

That long across the earth have frowned, — 

Nature, in all thy loveliness 

Of gentler forms and graceful dress, 

My sweet companion here below, 

With fadeless beauty on thy brow ; 

And more than these, — ye hours of ease, 

Blown from the far Hespcrides, 

Which shed around my earthly lot 

Such joys as never are forgot, — 

And thousand friends, where'er ye dwell, 

Ere strikes for me the passing-bell, 

Receive my loving, last farewell. 

Beyond this world that swings in air, — 
So old and yet so young and fair, — 
Where stretches far the starry plain, 
Still part of Nature's own domain, 



Vale! 257 

Lie other worlds that roll in light, 

Stupendous in their form and flight 

Through yon deep, trackless ether sea, 

Whose paths are all to Deity, 

And his great mightiness alone, 

In all their shoreless spaces known ; — 

Thither I go, by angels led, 

Attendants on the immortal dead ; 

And on the heavenly journey bent, 

Along the starry firmament, 

I wing my way in glad surprise 

O'er all the unfoldings of the skies, 

Until, far-flashing in its sphere, 

With walls of jasper shining clear, 

The City's golden gates appear ; 

There, there, in white-robed garments dressed. 

My soaring heart among the blest 

Shall find the true " beloved's " rest. 

Then, Nature, still in beauty clad, 

With all that 's lovely, good, or glad 

In earth or air, on land or sea, 

Or in that rolling symphony 

Of all that bends to worship thee, 

With friends of earth, where'er ye dwell, 

Think of me there, 

When you shall hear 

The echo of the passing-bell 

That speaks my loving, last farewell. 



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